Tomorrow's Promise
by Roxanne Wright
Summary: ** Chapter 22 ** Final Chapter - Syd & Vaughn, of course! Chap 23 Some Clarifications **Continuation from ATY - It's a three man rescue mission...
1. Every Breath You Take

Tomorrow's Promise  
  
Disclaimer: Everything Alias is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, and Touchstone. Please consider this a humble tribute to the genius of the Alias characters and plotlines. No harm intended.  
  
The titles for some of the chapters are from Police songs. Again, no harm intended. The lyrics of these songs seemed to relate to the story I wanted to tell.  
  
Rating: PG for mild language.  
  
Archive: Please ask first.  
  
Feedback: Appreciated, especially on writing techniques.  
  
  
  
Every Breath You Take  
  
Sydney woke up suddenly with the feeling that she was being watched. Slowly her surroundings came into focus. Her heartbeat accelerated as did the throbbing in her head. A man, Alex Khasinau, was staring at her from a chair directly opposite of her. In his hands he held a plate full of food and a fork. She instinctively pulled at the metal that bound her to the chair, hoping that by some miracle she would be able to get her hands on the man. Khasinau watched her futile struggle. Sydney gave up and locked eyes with him. For several moments they stared at each other, neither one wanting to be the first to look away. This was as much of a standoff as she was capable of at the moment. Finally, as Sydney watched him, he stabbed some food with the fork and offered it to her.  
  
"You should eat," he said.  
  
After a moment's pause, Sydney said, "I'm not hungry."  
  
Khasinau shrugged as though to say, "Suit yourself", got up from the chair and started to walk away.  
  
"Wait! Wait!" Sydney yelled. When he turned back to face her she said "You're Alex Khasinau." Khasinau nodded his head slightly. "I have questions for you."  
  
"I expect you do," he replied. "However, my employer is probably the only person that can answer your questions."  
  
"I thought you were 'The Man'," Sydney said  
  
"No. That is my employer".  
  
Khasinau left the room and a woman entered. As she approached Sydney she said, "I've been waiting almost 30 years for this…"  
  
Sydney's heart caught in her throat as the woman came into the light and she recognized her face. It was as if Sydney was looking in a mirror twenty years in the future – the woman looked very much like Sydney, only older.  
  
"Mom?"  
  
Ever since Sydney realized that her mother was still alive, she had wanted to find her. In fact, the real motivation behind her wanting to find Khasinau was that Sydney knew he would have information about her mother. But not once in these many months of chasing Khasinau, had Sydney thought about what she would say to her mother if she found her.  
  
"Yes, it's me, Sydney."  
  
Sydney's emotions exploded. At first she felt joy – joy to finally confirm that the mother she had lost so many years ago was still alive. But joy quickly yielded to anger. Sydney thought about what this woman had done to her father, and what she had done to her. The anger was merely an opening act for the hate that engulfed Sydney. When Sydney counted all the deaths that this woman had a hand in – civilians, CIA agents, Vaughn's father… and… and now Vaughn – it sickened her. It was the hate that Sydney held on to.  
  
Sydney chose her words carefully. "What do you want from me?"  
  
Irina let out a short laugh. "You come face to face with your dead mother and that is the question you want answered?  
  
"I expected questions on why I betrayed your father," Irina paused briefly.  
  
"Questions on how could I abandon you," again Irina paused briefly as if she were giving Sydney a chance to comment.  
  
"Questions on whether it was all just an act."  
  
The room was deadly quiet. Irina studied the face of her daughter, wondering if she had underestimated her.  
  
Finally Sydney said, "You know, I thought those were the questions I wanted answered too. But now that I'm here, I realize that I really don't care about any of that. None of that matters to me any more. I'm just here doing my job. And my job is to find out why you are trying to take down the Alliance, what you're planning to do with Rambaldi's works, and what you're planning on doing with me."  
  
Irina stared at Sydney. She was surprised that Sydney's words had hurt her. Irina thought she had hardened her heart to such things long ago.  
  
Irina skillfully hid her emotions. "Those are equally interesting questions, my dear. You will get your answers in the coming months as you are assimilated into our organization."  
  
"Wh-What?" Sydney exclaimed.  
  
Irina smiled. "I have kept track of you all your life, Sydney. I was the reason you were recruited by SD-6. But I never expected that you would join the CIA too.  
  
"You're a talented agent. You're an asset to both SD-6 and the CIA. And I know you will be an excellent asset for us. Imagine, Sydney, what you and I can accomplish together."  
  
Sydney was dumbfounded, and the look on her face showed it. Finally she said, "You know, they have doctors that could help you with your delusions."  
  
Irina laughed. "No, seriously," Sydney continued, "What in the world makes you think that I would ever join your organization?"  
  
"I know you, Sydney." Irina stood up and moved closer to her. She smiled at Sydney approvingly and put her hand on Sydney's shoulder. "You're my daughter."  
  
Sydney's emotions churned again and she was momentarily at a loss for words. Irina turned and walked casually out of the room. By the time Sydney was able to say anything, it was too late.  
  
"You don't know anything about me!" Sydney yelled at the invisible wake her mother had left.  
  
Sydney let out a short, frustrated scream and pulled at the chains that held her to the chair with all her strength. Knowing it would do no good, Sydney stopped fighting and slumped in the chair. Her mind was spinning, her head was pounding, and her emotions threatened to consume her.  
  
After a few minutes, Sark entered the room carrying a syringe filled with colorless liquid. He smiled at her.  
  
"Ah, Agent Bristow, we meet again."  
  
"Perfect." Sydney said sarcastically as Sark approached her. "Just perfect."  
  
Sark stuck the needle into her arm and pushed the colorless fluid directly into her blood stream.  
  
"There we go," he said as he removed the needle and took a small step back to look at her face.  
  
"You know, Agent Bristow," Sark put his hand at the back of her neck and pushed his fingers under her wig and up into her hair. Sydney looked up at him with a deadly stare.  
  
"Blue really isn't your color."  
  
Sark pulled the wig off her head, gave her a wink and a smile, and left the room.  
  
By the time she heard the lock turning in the heavy door, Sydney was already feeling drowsy. Her head wobbled on her neck and she suddenly felt nauseous. She fought to remain conscious but to no avail. As everything faded to black, a series of images flashed in her mind: her father… Will… Vaughn… Noah… Sark… her mother smiling at her. 


	2. Message in a Bottle

Tomorrow's Promise  
  
Disclaimer: Everything Alias is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, and Touchstone. Please consider this a humble tribute to the genius of the Alias characters and plotlines. No harm intended.  
  
The titles for some of the chapters are from Police songs. Again, no harm intended. The lyrics of these songs seemed to relate to the story I wanted to tell.  
  
Rating: PG for mild language.  
  
Archive: Please ask first.  
  
Feedback: Appreciated, especially on writing techniques.  
  
  
  
1 Message in a Bottle  
  
Vaughn watched through the small window as Sydney tried in vain to break the glass. Knowing it was useless, he encouraged Sydney to leave. Vaughn saw the guard approaching, but Sydney was too intent on saving him to see the guard. Vaughn saw the guard hit her. He watched her fall. He saw other guards approaching. Knowing that his time was limited, he moved along the wall to the ceiling, hoping to find a way out. His hands groped along the wall searching for anything that he could use to get out of the flooded corridor. It was no use.  
  
He was remarkably calm as he contemplated his last moments. Being a CIA officer, he hadn't expected to die this way – drowning alone in a warehouse in Taipei. As he started to loose consciousness, he imagined Sydney talking to him, smiling at him. His last thoughts would be of her.  
  
Suddenly the pressure of the water around him changed. The water dropped and he found himself floating on top of it with a sliver of air above him. He sucked in deep breaths as the water level continued to drop.  
  
The water disappeared quickly as if someone had pulled a plug on a drain, and Vaughn was soon lying on the floor of the corridor gasping air and coughing up water. He heard voices on the other side of the door. He looked around for a way out. The last thing he needed right now was a confrontation with guards and automatic weapons. He got up clumsily and started to try different doors in the corridor. Just as the door at the end of the corridor started to open, Vaughn eased open another door and slipped inside a dark, fortunately empty room. As soon as the footsteps passed the door, Vaughn opened it wide enough to see two guards walking towards the entrance of the warehouse. One guard was carrying an unconscious Sydney over his shoulder.  
  
Dripping wet, shivering, and not fully recovered from his brush with death, Vaughn followed the guards through the warehouse, down three flights of stairs into a huge basement, through a maze of hallways. Finally, the men went through a set of double doors that were protected by a card reader and a touch pad. Vaughn listened at the door, but could only make out muffled voices.  
  
Vaughn evaluated his options and decided that he was in no position to try and extract Sydney on his own. Knowing his best bet was to meet up with Jack, Vaughn made his way quickly out of the warehouse. Once safely on the street, Vaughn started in the direction of the rendezvous point. 


	3. King of Pain

Tomorrow's Promise  
  
Disclaimer: Everything Alias is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, and Touchstone. Please consider this a humble tribute to the genius of the Alias characters and plotlines. No harm intended.  
  
The titles for some of the chapters are from Police songs. Again, no harm intended. The lyrics of these songs seemed to relate to the story I wanted to tell.  
  
Rating: PG for mild language.  
  
Archive: Please ask first.  
  
Feedback: Appreciated, especially on writing techniques.  
  
  
  
1 King of Pain  
  
In another warehouse, approximately 1-½ miles from where Sydney was located, Jack was worrying that Will was going into shock. Will sat on the floor shaking uncontrollably, and kept repeating, "I thought I was going to die…"  
  
Jack had already examined Will's wounds, cleaned and bandaged what he could, and was trying to figure out what exactly had happened. From his appearance, it was obvious that Will had endured some torture. But what exactly had he told them? What could he have told them?  
  
"Mr. Tippin, it is imperative that you tell me what happened to you during the last several days."  
  
Will described the parts that he could remember. As Will was in the middle of describing the truth serum that had been used on him, Jack heard footsteps coming towards them. Jack turned covering Will and pulling his gun simultaneously.  
  
Jack was relieved to see Vaughn, but the relief was short lived.  
  
"Where is Sydney? Did you destroy the apparatus? And why are you wet?" Questions raced through Jack's mind.  
  
"Sydney was captured. They're holding her in some kind of complex under the warehouse."  
  
"Damnit!" Jack exclaimed. "What about the apparatus?"  
  
"It's been destroyed."  
  
Vaughn detailed the mission, including what he knew about Sydney's captors and her location. Jack quickly formulated a rescue plan. Will started to come out of his comatose-like condition and listened intently.  
  
After a few calls on his satellite phone, Jack said "I've arranged for the warehouse club to be raided tonight by the Taipei police. That will give us a diversion and hopefully make it easier for us to get in undetected."  
  
"How about some reinforcements?" Vaughn suggested.  
  
"I'm not exactly on Devlin's good side right now, and I doubt that you are either. The last thing we want to do is to let the CIA know our location. This has to be a two-man mission." Jack said.  
  
"How about a three-man mission?" Will asked.  
  
Jack and Vaughn looked at Will as if they had just noticed his presence for the first time. After studying Will, Jack and Vaughn looked back at each other pondering the offer. Finally Jack returned a skeptical gaze back to Will.  
  
"I think you've taken a few too many hits to the head, Mr. Tippin."  
  
"Hey!" Will objected, "I might not be James Bond, but I'm sure that there is something I can do to help."  
  
"James Bond?" Vaughn asked with a sarcastic tone.  
  
"Whatever." Will said, his frustration apparent.  
  
With a bit of a smile on his face, Vaughn turned to Jack.  
  
"Jack," Vaughn started.  
  
Jack quickly interrupted him, "He has no training." Jack paused a beat between each word to emphasize his point.  
  
"But we could use a third person," Vaughn said.  
  
Jack looked from Vaughn to Will and then back to Vaughn. With a sigh he agreed. "Okay. But we limit his exposure. It would be counter productive to rescue Sydney just to have her find out that we sacrificed him in the process."  
  
Vaughn nodded. "She'd be pissed." 


	4. Invisible Sun

Tomorrow's Promise  
  
Disclaimer: Everything Alias is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, and Touchstone. Please consider this a humble tribute to the genius of the Alias characters and plotlines. No harm intended.  
  
The titles for some of the chapters are from Police songs. Again, no harm intended. The lyrics of these songs seemed to relate to the story I wanted to tell.  
  
Rating: PG for mild language.  
  
Archive: Please ask first.  
  
Feedback: Appreciated, especially on writing techniques.  
  
  
  
Invisible Sun  
  
At 10:45 PM the Taipei police stormed the dance club. Chaos ensued. At 10:49, the power to the warehouse was cut. The chaos escalated. Jack, Vaughn, and Will entered the warehouse from the back alley. Each man wore night vision goggles. Jack and Vaughn carried automatic weapons and pistols.  
  
Will carried only a pistol and prayed that he wouldn't have to use it. With only one afternoon's practice using firearms, Will was feeling extremely nervous. His legs shook as he followed Jack and Vaughn into the darkened warehouse.  
  
The plan was that Jack and Vaughn would eliminate any obstacles, such as men with guns, and Will was supposed to locate Sydney.  
  
Jack's words from earlier that day kept were firmly planted in Will's mind:  
  
"Whatever you do, Mr. Tippin, do NOT attempt to engage in hand-to-hand combat. Use the gun."  
  
After encountering three armed guards in the entryway, Vaughn lead them down two flights of stairs, through several winding hallways, to a set of double doors. Silently, Vaughn attached a decoder to the card reader. Jack sandwiched Will between himself and Vaughn, and guarded the two younger men while Vaughn worked the lock. Lights blinked on the device as it easily broke the five-digit code. The door was now open.  
  
Vaughn lead the way through the doors, weapon first, to find the hallway empty. Will followed and Jack provided cover from the rear. Without words, Jack directed Will to check the rooms on the left side of the hallway, and Vaughn to check the rooms on the right side. Vaughn immediately went to work. Some doors opened easily, others had to be kicked in. Either way, Vaughn entered each room with his weapon readied.  
  
Jack moved towards Will encouraging him to start checking the rooms. As Will opened each door, Jack stayed close, first scanning the room for threats and then quickly returning to the hallway to protect Will's back.  
  
Vaughn encountered several guards but was able to quickly disarm them and knock them out.  
  
The first three rooms Will checked were empty with the exception of some boxes and an occasional shelving unit. Coming out of the fourth room Will tripped over something. Landing spread-eagle on the floor, weapon still clutched in his hand, Will realized that he had tripped over a man with a broken neck. Will panicked as he looked into the eyes of the dead man and then looked at the huge weapon lying on the floor beside the body.  
  
"What in the world am I doing here?!" Will asked himself.  
  
Jack swore under his breath, grabbed Will by his shirt, pulled him to his feet and pushed him towards the next door. Will was certain that if silence weren't so important, he would be receiving a harsh lecture. Will looked back at Jack in an attempt to apologize. Instead of apologizing, Will was able to warn Jack that there was a guard coming up behind him. As Jack fought with the guard, Will turned back to the fifth door.  
  
The door was locked. Doing his best to imitate Vaughn, Will tried to kick the door in. The door did not budge and Will ended up with his foot planted comically just above the doorknob.  
  
Having just knocked out the guard, Jack hissed, "Kick through the door, Mr. Tippin!"  
  
Two guards suddenly burst through the double doors at the end of the hall, firing their automatic weapons and running towards Jack and Will. Jack did not hesitate. He put himself between Will and the gunfire. Jack walked brazenly towards the guards, firing his pistol. With the advantage of the night vision goggles, Jack was able to take down one guard. However, the other guard managed to fire several shots into Jack's torso.  
  
It seemed to Will that things had gone into slow motion. He watched as Jack fell to the floor and landed on his back. The guard continued to fire as he closed the distance between them. Will instinctively dropped to the floor, tucking his head into his chest as much as possible. In a split second, Will had to decide whether he would help Jack or save himself.  
  
As Will stood up and pointed his gun toward the guard, he saw gunfire coming from the opposite side of the hall. Vaughn was lying on the floor shooting at the remaining guard, drawing the gunfire away from Jack and Will.  
  
Will returned to his task of opening the door. Considering the amount of adrenaline that was now coursing through his body, Will was not surprised when the door gave way to his second kick.  
  
"This isn't so hard," Will thought sarcastically as he entered the room.  
  
The room was totally different from the previous rooms. This one had no boxes or shelves. There was a work area near the door – cabinets, countertops, a table and some chairs. As he proceeded past the work area, Will saw several instruments that were painfully familiar. He grimaced involuntarily.  
  
Will was starting his retreat when he saw a thin mattress on the floor against the far wall. He hesitated, trying to determine if the shape on the mattress was a human form. The shape moved slightly, and Will inched forward cautiously.  
  
It did not take long for Will to recognize her. Sydney was lying on her side facing the wall, curled up in the fetal position. He knelt down beside her and relaxed his grip on the pistol.  
  
"Syd!" Will whispered urgently.  
  
At the sound of his voice, she turned her head slowly, and looked at him with wide, glazed eyes.  
  
Knowing that she could not see him very well through the darkness, Will whispered, "Syd, it's me. We're going to get you out of here!"  
  
She turned her head back towards the wall as if she hadn't heard him, or didn't care. Slightly confused, Will rolled Sydney onto her back. Her arms and hands were not restrained. A quick scan of the rest of her body revealed that her ankles were chained to the wall.  
  
"Crap!" Will said to himself. He checked the strength of the chains by pulling on them several times.  
  
"Crap!" he said again, this time out lout. "I was hoping that I wouldn't have to use this."  
  
Will pointed the gun at the chains. He said a quick prayer that he wouldn't kill himself, and fired. The chains fell easily to the floor. Will breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
Sydney was up and moving the minute the chains hit the floor. She kicked Will viciously in the ribs making him flip over and land on his back on the floor. In one smooth motion, Sydney kicked the gun out of his hand, grabbed it, and pointed it at him.  
  
Looking at Sydney over the barrel of the gun, Will noticed for the first time the wildness in her eyes. She looked like a totally different woman.  
  
"Syd! What are you doing?!" At the sound of his voice she hesitated. Then she shook her head as if she were trying to get rid of an unpleasant thought. Sydney's body stiffened and Will was certain she was going to pull the trigger.  
  
"Syd, please!" he pleaded.  
  
Again, Sydney hesitated. This time she hesitated long enough for Jack to sneak up behind her and knock her out using the handle of his pistol. As Sydney crumpled to the floor, Jack pulled her backwards into him and lowered her down gently as he could. He took the gun from her hand and returned it to Will.  
  
Will had not moved yet. "Holy shit, Jack!" Will exhaled sharply. "What is going on here?"  
  
Jack already had Sydney slung over his shoulder and was heading towards the door. He stopped and turned around to face Will.  
  
"We don't have time to discuss this right now, Mr. Tippin," Jack's irritation was apparent in his voice. "Get up! Let's go!"  
  
This time when Jack turned to leave, Will was right behind him.  
  
In the hallway Jack said, "Get Vaughn! I'm heading for the exit! "  
  
Will crossed the hallway and found Vaughn still checking rooms. He didn't have to say a thing. At the sight of Will standing in the doorway, Vaughn started running and was in a full sprint by the time he hit the hallway.  
  
As they approached the double door, they heard gunfire. They burst through the doors with guns drawn, but saw that Jack had already killed two guards and had maintained his course towards the exit.  
  
The trio made it out of the building and into the alley without any further incident. The minute they were out of the building, Vaughn was on his sat phone calling for the extraction team. Since they could not involve the Agency, Jack had called in a few favors and assembled a team of his own.  
  
"Ten minutes, Jack!" Vaughn yelled.  
  
Jack was leading the group despite his wounds and Sydney's extra weight. The three men made their way through back alleys towards the extraction site.  
  
Inside the warehouse, several people were gathered around security monitors.  
  
"We can have them back within the hour," Sark said calmly. "Just give the order."  
  
"No. Let them go," Irina said.  
  
Sark looked over Irina's head at Khasinau. Khasinau shrugged, indicating that he was equally confused.  
  
"But, our plans," Khasinau objected.  
  
"This may work better than our original plan." Irina smiled as she watched the three men disappear into the night. 


	5. SOP

Tomorrow's Promise  
  
Disclaimer: Everything Alias is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, and Touchstone. Please consider this a humble tribute to the genius of the Alias characters and plotlines. No harm intended.  
  
The titles for some of the chapters are from Police songs. Again, no harm intended. The lyrics of these songs seemed to relate to the story I wanted to tell.  
  
Rating: PG for mild language.  
  
Archive: Please ask first.  
  
Feedback: Appreciated, especially on writing techniques.  
  
  
  
S.O.P.*  
  
Jack carried Sydney nearly a mile before collapsing. Vaughn carried Sydney the rest of the way to the extraction point while Will helped Jack. A van was waiting to take them to the airport. At the airport, the four quickly boarded a cargo plane that would take them back to Los Angeles.  
  
Only when the plane was in the air did the three men bother with conversation.  
  
"Let's take a look at those wounds, Jack." Vaughn had found the box of emergency medical supplies and was encouraging Jack to sit down on the bench that ran along one side of the plane.  
  
Jack had some difficulty getting out of the black jacket he was wearing. He said nothing, but Vaughn could tell by the way he clenched his jaw and blinked his eyes that Jack was in pain.  
  
Jack's black t-shirt was soaked with blood. Using scissors from the medical kit, Vaughn cut off the t-shirt. Jack had taken two bullets in his right shoulder but luckily no major organs were damaged. Vaughn was surprised by the amount of blood that was still seeping from the wounds.  
  
"Jesus, Jack!" Vaughn said, "How in the world are you staying conscious with that kind of blood loss?" Jack knew that Vaughn's question was actually a compliment and did not reply.  
  
Vaughn cleaned the wounds and applied pressure using sterile gauze. When the bleeding slowed, he wrapped compression bandages around Jack's shoulder and chest. Vaughn reached into the medical kit and pulled out a syringe and a vial of liquid.  
  
"Any chance you'll take some pain medication?" Vaughn asked. The scowl on Jack's face gave Vaughn his answer. The corners of Vaughn's lips curled slightly as he shook his head at Jack. He returned the items to the kit.  
  
"Well then, I guess that will have to do until we get to L.A.," Vaughn said. He leaned over to pack up the rest of the supplies.  
  
"Thank you, Mike," Jack said softly.  
  
Vaughn's head snapped up. His eyes locked with Jack's. He couldn't decide which was more surprising, that another agent actually called him by his first name or that Jack Bristow was thanking him.  
  
"Thank you," Jack repeated, "Not just for taking care of this," he motioned towards his shoulder, "But also for…" Jack's voice trailed off as he looked towards Sydney.  
  
"No problem." There was no need for Jack to finish his sentence. Vaughn knew that Jack Bristow was not in the habit of thanking people. Vaughn understood what Jack could not put into words.  
  
Vaughn dug an army green t-shirt out of a trunk and tossed it on Jack's lap. "See if you can manage to put that on without screwing up my handy work."  
  
Vaughn looked around the plane. He had laid Sydney on a fold down cot attached to the opposite wall of the airplane. Will was sitting on the floor beside the cot just staring at her. Vaughn sighed as he walked across the plane and sat down on the floor about ten feet away from Will. He leaned his weary body against the wall, pulled his knees up, and wrapped his arms across his shins. He let his head fall back slightly to rest on the wall.  
  
Vaughn watched Will as he looked at Sydney. He envied Will. Over the past three weeks Vaughn had witnessed Sydney's devotion to this man. If Vaughn had been the one that was kidnapped would Sydney travel across the globe to rescue him? Vaughn hoped that she would, but he knew their relationship was on a whole different level than the relationship she had with Will.  
  
Vaughn envied the simplicity of Will's relationship with Sydney. No clandestine meetings, no counter missions, no fear. Will was free to be with her in public, stop by her house on a whim, and call her just to hear her voice. Will could reach out and touch Sydney without worrying about protocol. He could hug her, hold her, kiss her, and tell her he loved her any time he wanted to.  
  
And Vaughn was certain that Will loved her. Will had transformed himself from newspaper reporter to operative without hesitation. It took a certain kind of person to be an operative, and an even stronger person to participate in a dangerous mission without any training. Will Tippin was either in love or totally insane.  
  
Jack slowly worked the t-shirt over his head. He eventually managed to get both arms through the sleeves. He sat on the bench a few moments longer breathing deeply. Finally Jack stood up and started searching through boxes. Vaughn considered telling Jack to sit down and rest, but he knew it would do no good.  
  
"She's still unconscious." Will commented. He reached out and gently touched a bruise on Sydney's face. "Are you sure she's alright?"  
  
"She's okay," Jack and Vaughn said nearly in unison.  
  
Jack stood up holding several standard issue military belts. He walked slowly over to the cot. Jack took one of the narrow, canvas belts and wrapped it around Sydney's wrist and then around a bar under the cot.  
  
"What are you doing?" Will asked, his voice filled with concern.  
  
Vaughn smiled sadly and shook his head at Will's simple question.  
  
As he continued to tie Sydney's limbs to the cot, Jack answered, "We have 15 hours before we land in LA. At some point Sydney will wake up." Jack looked up at Will momentarily, "And I don't think you're prepared for round two with Sydney."  
  
When he was finished, Jack stood up and faced Will.  
  
"I can tell by the look on your face, Mr. Tippin, that you still haven't figured out what happened to Sydney."  
  
Will objected, "Obviously, they drugged her." Will motioned towards a group of needle marks on Sydney's arm. "Why else would she attack me like that?"  
  
"Yes, they drugged her, Mr. Tippin. Most likely they were attempting to brainwash her. She attacked you because she did not recognize you."  
  
Vaughn stood up and joined the others at the cot. His eyes lingered over Sydney's face, but he dared not touch her as Will did. Vaughn turned to face Will.  
  
"Considering that she was there for less than 24 hours, it's unlikely that they were successful." Vaughn looked down at Sydney again.  
  
"That's good," Will said confidently.  
  
"Yes and no." Vaughn sighed, "Now she's somewhere in between being herself and being completely brain washed."  
  
"And we do not know where she is at on that continuum," Jack interjected.  
  
Vaughn looked at Will and continued, "She doesn't know what is true and what is false. Most importantly, she doesn't know who to trust. She is very confused, and that makes her very dangerous."  
  
"At this point, Sydney has only her instincts to rely on," Jack said. "And her instincts, that of an intelligence operative," Jack said pointedly, "would be to kill anyone she perceives as a threat."  
  
"When she wakes up, she would assess the situation and…"  
  
"Most likely kill everyone on this plane," Jack finished Vaughn's statement.  
  
"These restraints," Vaughn tugged at one of Sydney's wrists, "Are the only thing keeping us," Vaughn pointed to himself and then the other two men, "from the wrath of Sydney."  
  
They were silent for a moment as they gazed at Sydney.  
  
Finally Will said, "Yeah, you know, I think the restraint thing is a good idea."  
  
  
  
***  
  
"I need to make a call to Sloane before our cover is blown," Jack said. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and started walking towards the cockpit.  
  
"Oh Jesus! Jack, my story!" Will was frantic. "I told Abbey to publish it if something happened to me! I've… I've been gone too long!"  
  
Jack turned around and faced Will.  
  
"What story?" Vaughn asked.  
  
Will spoke with agitation, "I wrote a story about SD-6… at least what I know about SD-6."  
  
"You did WHAT?" Vaughn yelled. "Do you realize what that will do to our operation?"  
  
Jack interrupted Vaughn's rant, "I knew about your story, Mr. Tippin. It was taken care of before we left for Taipei. Your story is now CIA property."  
  
"Oh, thank God." Will breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
Jack turned and started for the cockpit again.  
  
"What are you going to tell Sloane?" Vaughn asked.  
  
Jack didn't bother to stop this time. "I'm going to tell him that I surprised Sydney with a two week sailing cruise," Jack spoke over his shoulder.  
  
"Will he give you the time off just like that?"  
  
"I'm a senior officer. He has no choice." Jack said. "Plus, I'm going to tell him that we're already on the cruise."  
  
"Are you sure two weeks will be enough time?" Vaughn asked.  
  
"Agent Vaughn, you worry too much," Jack said. He opened the door to the cockpit. "If it turns out that two weeks is not enough, we'll deal with that in two weeks." Jack closed the door behind him, ending the conversation.  
  
***  
  
By the time Jack returned, Will was back at Sydney's side and Vaughn was lying on another fold-down cot.  
  
"We may have a problem," Jack said.  
  
Vaughn sat up quickly. "What?"  
  
"Sloane has been poisoned and is in critical condition. His wife, Emily, is dead."  
  
Vaughn's eyes became wide in disbelief. "What?!"  
  
"SD-6, as well as the LAPD, have launched investigations. Top members of the Alliance are on their way to LA. They want me there immediately."  
  
Vaughn swung his legs over the side of the cot. "Shit! What did you tell them?"  
  
"They gave me 48 hours."  
  
"Two days, Jack! That's not going to be enough time for you to recover from those wounds!"  
  
"I've done more in less time. My wounds will not be a problem."  
  
Vaughn was silent for a moment, trying to figure out if Jack was trying to convince Vaughn or himself. Finally he asked, "What about Sydney?"  
  
"I told them that I would let Sydney make her own decision about when to come back."  
  
"Good. That still gives us time to…"  
  
Jack interrupted Vaughn, "But it will be suspicious if Sydney doesn't come back for Emily's funeral. They were good friends."  
  
Vaughn stood up and ran one hand through his hair. "When?"  
  
"The funeral hasn't been set yet because of the investigation and because there are few close family members outside of Sloane," Jack said. "That buys us a few days." Vaughn nodded.  
  
Will, who had been silent up to this point, turned to them and said, "How do you people live like this?"  
  
  
  
*S.O.P. = Standard Operating Procedure 


	6. Visions

Tomorrow's Promise  
  
Disclaimer: Everything Alias is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, and Touchstone. Please consider this a humble tribute to the genius of the Alias characters and plotlines. No harm intended.  
  
The titles for some of the chapters are from Police songs. Again, no harm intended. The lyrics of these songs seemed to relate to the story I wanted to tell.  
  
Rating: PG for mild language.  
  
Archive: Please ask first.  
  
Feedback: Appreciated, especially on writing techniques.  
  
  
  
1 Chapter 6 - Visions  
  
Sydney woke from a nightmare in a cold sweat. She shook her head in an attempt to clear her mind, but all that did was make her dizzy. She tried to make sense out of the images and thoughts racing through her mind.  
  
She was filled with despair, anxiety, and anger but didn't know why. Scenes played endlessly in her mind: raging water; syringes filled with liquid; desperate running; guns; an office inside a cave; speeding vehicles; hand cuffs and chains; a bazaar in a foreign country; fist fights; an engagement ring.  
  
And faces. The faces scared Sydney the most. She would see a person and desperately try to put that person in some kind of context. A young, blond- haired man in an expensive suit. A middle-aged woman with long brown hair and intense brown eyes. A middle-aged man with a salt and pepper beard and a smug smile. The face of a young man with striking hazel eyes trapped behind a small window. And the song Build Me Up Buttercup played on an endless loop. It was enough to drive her insane.  
  
Sydney searched for anything in her mind that would explain the visions, the people, her life. She was unable to find any answers. Where was she? What time was it? What day was it?  
  
Sydney moved her head rapidly as she looked for answers in her surroundings. Panic overwhelmed her as she realized that she was on an airborne plane, tied to a cot. The panic increased when she saw a man sitting on the floor staring at her.  
  
Sydney wanted to scream out all her questions, "Who are you? Where am I? Who am I?" Her instincts, however, told her to remain silent.  
  
Will watched Sydney as she struggled for consciousness. Perspiration began to form along her hairline and she started breathing erratically. She rolled her head from side to side and then suddenly opened her eyes. She pulled at the restraints and lifted her head up to look down at her wrists and ankles. Her face became pale as her fear was physically manifested.  
  
When she finally made eye contact with Will, her eyes were wide and filled with fear. She was terrified and unable to disguise it. This was not at all what Will had expected. Sydney was the bravest person he knew. How could this woman who had leaped across tables to prevent his death possess such fear? Will much preferred her pulling a gun on him than being so terrified of him.  
  
"Hey guys," Will called to Jack and Vaughn.  
  
Vaughn, who had been sleeping fitfully on his cot, woke easily and quickly joined Will. He knelt down next to Will and looked in her eyes. Vaughn too was unaccustomed to seeing Sydney show fear.  
  
He put on his warmest smile and said, "Hey Syd."  
  
Sydney looked into Vaughn's eyes. She studied his face carefully. She recognized his face from one of the visions – the hazel eyes behind the window. The fear on Sydney's face was replaced with a puzzled look as she tried to put the pieces together.  
  
"Do I know you?"  
  
"Yes, you do," Vaughn replied.  
  
"You tell me how I know you," Sydney challenged.  
  
"He is one of your co-workers," Jack said.  
  
Jack was standing behind Vaughn and Will. Sydney's anxiety level increased with his sudden appearance. He knelt down on the other side of Will. Seeing his daughter in such a state bothered Jack, but he maintained his usual stone cold exterior.  
  
"Sydney, please relax. You're safe here with us. We have no intention of hurting you," Jack said softly.  
  
"If you have no intention of hurting me, why am I tied up?" she asked.  
  
"That is for our protection, as well as yours."  
  
Sydney's emotions started fluctuating wildly. Her fear was quickly giving way to anger. One moment she was ready to burst into tears and beg for her life, and the next moment she was certain that she could give each of these men the ass kicking they deserved. One minute she was thinking of all the horrible things these men might be capable of and the next minute she was calmly thinking about how to get out of the restraints.  
  
These emotions were so intense that the three men could see them. Her eyes, her face, every muscle in her body changed to match the emotion.  
  
"That's a good one," Sydney spat. "It's for MY protection." She was mocking Jack.  
  
"We're on our way home, Sydney. Once we get there we'll explain everything."  
  
Sydney was becoming aggressive. "Why not just explain everything now?"  
  
"You're not well. You're in the final stages of a serious infection. You're suffering hallucinations, fever dreams, and paranoia. The doctors have assured us that this is not unusual in cases like yours. Once you're completely cured, we'll explain what has been happening to you."  
  
Sydney narrowed her eyes, clenched her jaw, and tensed every muscle in her body. "I don't believe you," she said in an icy tone.  
  
Sydney pulled at the restraints with all her strength. She jerked and twisted her body as much as the restraints would allow. Will was startled by Sydney's actions. He leaned back as if he were trying to avoid Sydney's punches. He lost his balance and ended up falling backwards onto his butt. Vaughn also distanced himself slightly from her flailing. Jack remained beside her and waited calmly while she raged.  
  
Once her strength was exhausted, Sydney's entire body relaxed. Her eyes became wide and glassy again. She stared out into nothingness.  
  
"Sydney," Jack called her attention back to him. "Why don't you try and rest?"  
  
"Okay," she said as she slid back into unconsciousness.  
  
  
  
*****  
  
"Jesus!" Will said after a few moments. "WHAT the hell was that?"  
  
Jack moved away, leaving Vaughn to answer Will's question. "THAT is what we call a psychotic episode," Vaughn said. He moved back from the cot and joined Will on the floor. He brought his knees up and grasped his shins again.  
  
"You guys told me she would wake up and want to kick ass. Instead she woke up some bizarre mix of Scarlet O'Hara and Bobby Knight!" Will said.  
  
"Hence the term psychotic," Vaughn replied. The unexpected comment made Will chuckle.  
  
Both men stared at Sydney. She was twitching and pulling at the restraints even though she was unconscious.  
  
"What's happening to her?" Will asked.  
  
Vaughn took a deep breath. "When drugs are used to brainwash, a combination of drugs are given at intervals over several days. The dosage starts small and increases gradually, peaking about half way through the process. Then the dosage is gradually decreased. Once the process is complete, a person's memory is stripped clean and you can start building them back up however you want.  
  
"Now, if the process is interrupted at any point, especially near the peak, the person will go into withdrawal. What happens during the withdrawal depends on what drugs are used and, in some part, the person's physiology. But generally speaking, it is like any other drug withdrawal."  
  
"So, that episode was normal? I mean, as far as withdrawals go?" Will asked.  
  
"Well, no. I think they used some aggressive drugs on her. Her reaction was a bit extreme." The entire time Vaughn spoke, neither he nor Will moved his eyes from Sydney.  
  
"Is she through the withdrawal now?" Will asked.  
  
"I don't think we've seen the end of it yet."  
  
"Swell," Will said.  
  
They sat in silence for a while then Will said, "You ever…" he looked at Vaughn, "You know…" he bobbed his head towards Sydney.  
  
Vaughn looked him in the eyes. "Experience brainwashing?"  
  
Will nodded.  
  
"Naw," Vaughn said. "I'm not a field agent."  
  
"Oh," Will said. "Could have fooled me."  
  
They returned their attention to Sydney. After several minutes of silence, Vaughn said, "So, you're in love with Sydney."  
  
It was strange, but Will felt comfortable being totally honest with Vaughn, a man he hardly knew. Maybe it was because he was having the most bizarre experience of his life and Vaughn had been there to see him through part of it. Maybe it was because after seeing Vaughn in action Will respected him too much to lie to him. Maybe it was because he realized after all he had been through that he should not be ashamed of his feelings for Syd.  
  
"Oh, yeah," Will said nodding his head hypnotically. "Have been for years."  
  
Silence again.  
  
"You too?" Will asked without taking his eyes off Sydney.  
  
Vaughn hesitated before saying, "Naw, the Agency discourages that."  
  
"That's good," Will nodded again. Will knew it was a lie, but he also knew why Vaughn had to do it. 


	7. Two Planes

Tomorrow's Promise  
  
Disclaimer: Everything Alias is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, and Touchstone. Please consider this a humble tribute to the genius of the Alias characters and plotlines. No harm intended.  
  
Rating: PG for mild language.  
  
Archive: Please ask first.  
  
Feedback: Welcomed, especially if you like the story enough for me to keep writing it.  
  
Author's Note: I have not done any research, so everything thing in here is fiction. I chose to spend my time writing instead of doing research. Now, if the Mr. Abrams comes knocking on my door, asking me to join his staff, I'll happily start researching.  
  
  
  
Chapter Seven - The Tale of Two Planes  
  
When the plane landed at 3:30 am at Cartnell Military Airfield outside of LA, it headed straight for a seldom-used hanger on the outskirts of the airfield. Jack had called Devlin three hours prior to their arrival. Devlin, of course, had more questions than Jack cared to answer at that time. Jack gave Devlin just enough information to convince him to arrange for a private hanger and two ambulances with a security detail. Devlin made it clear that Jack and Vaughn would have plenty of questions to answer as soon as they hit the tarmac.  
  
Sydney woke up two more times while they were in the air. Each time she became a little more lucid - asking more questions and throwing fewer fits. When they landed, the EMT teams boarded the plane with two stretchers: one for Jack and one for Sydney. Luckily for all involved, Sydney was unconscious at the time they transferred her from the plane to the ambulance.  
  
Devlin was waiting in front of the ambulances. The EMT teams came out first with Jack and Sydney. Vaughn and Will followed them. Vaughn counted at least ten agents in the hanger. He knew that there would be more in position outside the hanger and in the motorcade that would escort them to St. James, the government hospital. Vaughn recognized several of the agents, and was not surprised to see Weiss standing near Devlin. He looked to see if Haladeki was attached to Devlin's ass, but there was no sign of the little weasel.  
  
As the EMTs pushed Jack past Devlin, Devlin shook his head and said, "What in the hell were you thinking, Jack?"  
  
Jack was cool and calm as always, "I was thinking that if you had listened to me when I told you who the mole was I wouldn't have had to do anything."  
  
"Yeah, well, lets talk about that mole, shall we?" Devlin replied. The paramedics folded up the stretcher and rolled Jack into one of the ambulances.  
  
Vaughn walked up and stopped about one foot in front of Devlin. "Agent Vaughn, You have even more questions to answer than he does. Please join us," Devlin said as he dramatically swept one arm towards Jack's ambulance.  
  
Prior to going to Taipei, sharing an ambulance with the Director and Jack Bristow would have been a nightmare to Vaughn, but not now. Vaughn simply nodded his head at Devlin and headed towards the ambulance.  
  
"Hey buddy," Weiss said under his breath as Vaughn passed by. Vaughn wasn't ready to let him off the hook so easily. He hadn't had much time to think about Weiss' betrayal, but he certainly hadn't forgotten it. Vaughn climbed into the ambulance without acknowledging him.  
  
"Mr. Tippin," Devlin addressed Will, "You look as though you are also in need of medical attention." Devlin motioned for Weiss. "Agent Weiss, escort Mr. Tippin to the hospital, and do not leave his side until I personally okay it. Understand?"  
  
"Yes sir!" Weiss said. He followed Will into Sydney's ambulance and Devlin squeezed his way into the other ambulance. The vehicles started moving, no sirens, and no lights. Trying to attract as little attention as possible.  
  
Knowing that Jack would be headed for surgery once they got to the hospital, Devlin started with his questions the minute the ambulance started to move.  
  
"Jack, where have you been and what have you been doing?" Devlin asked. "And I want the truth, not whatever fairy tale you're going to write up and call a report."  
  
Jack told Devlin most of what had happened - he didn't offer a lot of details, but he was totally honest.  
  
"You gave Sark a crucial Rambaldi page?" Devlin exclaimed, turning red in the face.  
  
"Yes, but we exposed it first," Jack said.  
  
"And we took an entire roll of film on it before we turned it over," Vaughn said.  
  
"What was on the page?" Devlin asked.  
  
"We didn't have much time to study it," Vaughn replied.  
  
"It looked much like all his other documents, full of sketches and measurements and probably not very useful by itself," Jack volunteered.  
  
Devlin had questions about the Rambaldi device that Sydney had destroyed, but neither Vaughn nor Jack had any information on it.  
  
"And, Agent Vaughn, how did you escape your watery grave exactly?"  
  
"I don't know, sir. The way the water just started draining away. it was like someone had opened a flood gate or something."  
  
"I'd venture to say that was not the first time they had to deal with a flood during the development of the device and they had safety measures in place," Jack said.  
  
Devlin chewed them both up for the numerous rules and regulations that they had broken, but he was most upset about the fact that they involved Will in the rescue and that the whole thing jeopardized Jack and Sydney's cover.  
  
"And, just because you made it back to LA without SD-6 finding out does not mean that we're in the clear yet, you know," Devlin said.  
  
"I'm well aware of that, Ben," Jack said. "Our main concern is Sydney. I'll be back at SD-6 before they get suspicious."  
  
"Yeah, well, we'll see about that after you spend several hours in surgery," Devlin said. Devlin stared at Jack for several seconds, debating whether to ask the next question. "Jack, would you be surprised if I told you that Haladeki was found shot to death the same night you ran off to Taipei?"  
  
Jack turned his head to look Devlin in the eyes. "No, I wouldn't," Jack paused briefly. "I told you he was the mole."  
  
While Haladeki's death didn't surprise Jack, Vaughn was shocked.  
  
Jack and Devlin were in a face off. "Hmmm," Devlin said nodding his head minutely. "You were right, Jack. Our investigation has yielded plenty of ties to Khasinau."  
  
"Well, maybe if you had started investigating him when I first suggested it, Mr. Tippin would never have been taken to Taipei, I wouldn't have two bullets in my shoulder, and my daughter would actually know who I am," Jack said coldly.  
  
"Listen to me, both of you," Devlin was really angry now. "You have violated so many agency regs I would be totally justified in assigning you to a desk job in a basement closet for the rest of your careers." All three of them knew Vaughn was the only one in danger of getting reassigned. Jack was two valuable of an asset.  
  
Devlin exhaled sharply and looked at Vaughn. Vaughn could not meet the Director's eyes. "Consider yourself officially reprimanded, Agent Vaughn." Vaughn was visibly relieved. He nodded his head solemnly and continued to stare at the floor of the ambulance.  
  
As the ambulance pulled up to a secured entrance to the hospital, Devlin said, "If either of you participate in another loose cannon operation like this again, I will personally see to it that your career in intelligence is over."  
  
  
  
*****  
  
Two hours after the CIA caravan arrived at the hospital, a private plane landed at LAX and unloaded its passengers at a private hanger. A few well- placed bills allowed the party of seven men and one woman to leave the airport without going through customs. Three men and the woman climbed into a waiting limo, and the remaining four men got into a black sedan and followed the limo out of LAX. 


	8. Missing Pieces

Tomorrow's Promise  
  
Disclaimer: Everything Alias is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, and Touchstone. Please consider this a humble tribute to the genius of the Alias characters and plotlines. No harm intended.  
  
Rating: PG for mild language.  
  
Archive: Please ask first.  
  
Feedback: Welcomed, especially if you like the story enough for me to keep writing it.  
  
Author's Note: I have not done any research, so everything thing in here is fiction. I chose to spend my time writing instead of doing research. Now, if the Mr. Abrams comes knocking on my door, asking me to join his staff, I'll happily start researching.  
  
Chapter Eight - Missing Pieces  
  
Will was having trouble adjusting to his new popularity. He had not been alone since the plane landed. Weiss and at least three other agents were with him while he was treated at the hospital. And now his new staff was getting him acquainted with his new safe house.  
  
"Two safe houses in two weeks," Will said as he looked around the living room. "I don't suppose I broke a record or anything?" he looked at Weiss.  
  
"Not even close," Weiss said matter-of-factly and headed for the kitchen where the other two agents were.  
  
Will flopped down on a couch that reminded him of one of his college apartments. "The amount of money I pay in taxes and this is the best the CIA can do?" Will mumbled to himself.  
  
"What was that?" Weiss asked defensively as he walked back into the living room.  
  
"Nothing. Nothing," Will replied. As Weiss walked by Will, he handed him a bottle of beer. "Thanks, man," Will said gratefully.  
  
Weiss sat down in a chair directly across from Will, opened up a bottle of water and took a drink. Will took note of the water; "They don't seriously keep you from drinking on duty, do they?"  
  
"There is no official company policy on it if that's what you mean," Weiss said.  
  
"That's good. I mean considering the kind of work you guys do, you should be able to have a drink any time you want," Will said. Weiss smiled slightly. "But, don't get me wrong. I really appreciate you staying sober on this particular assignment. Here's to you!" Will raised his beer to Weiss in a toast and then took a long drink. Weiss' smile grew larger.  
  
After a few quiet moments, Will asked, "So, is this safe house safer than the last one?"  
  
"We have more security here than we did at the other one. Believe me, you're quite safe."  
  
Will chuckled sarcastically, "I haven't been safe since Danny's death." Will took another drink and then looked Weiss in the eyes. "How long will I be here?"  
  
"I'm not the case officer on this, so I can't say for sure. But I imagine that you will be here until you make a decision."  
  
"Decision? What decision?" Will asked.  
  
"The one about whether you want to go into the witness protection program or not," Weiss said.  
  
"Oh yeah, that decision," Will said and finished off his beer.  
  
*****  
  
Around 9:30 that morning, at a cabin about an hour north of LA, Irina walked out onto the porch with a copy of the LA Times and a cup of coffee. She had not slept since they had arrived at the cabin. Being back in the United States had made her oddly sentimental. She was caught up in thoughts of her life when she lived in LA.  
  
It wasn't long before Khasinea joined her on the porch, bringing her a plate of eggs and toast. "Thank you, Alex" Irina said as she set down the paper.  
  
They ate in silence until Sark joined them. "I do love the United States," Sark said. "I hope that I get to spend more time here than I did last time."  
  
"There's no doubt about that, dear boy," Irina said.  
  
Sark sat down on the porch facing Irina and Khasinea. "If you don't mind, can I ask just exactly what it is we're doing here?" Sark asked casually.  
  
Irina had finished her breakfast and set the plate on a small table between her and Khasinea. "You mean why did I let Sydney go? That's what you really want to know, isn't it?"  
  
Khasinea and Sark looked at each other. Sark looked at Irina, "Yes, that is at the heart of the matter, I'd say."  
  
"There are several reasons. First of all, it was too messy. I had no desire to get three more people involved in this."  
  
Again Sark and Khasinea looked at each other. Knowing that Khasinea would not say anything, Sark said, "They were already involved. We've been trying to expose Bristow for several years now. Tippin's usefulness has been exhausted. And Vaughn is insignificant. No one would miss him."  
  
"They would be unnecessary complications - unpredictable elements."  
  
"Irina, are you trying to convince us or yourself?" Khasinea asked. "You've never hesitated to eliminate such complications in the past." Irina glared at Khasinea, but he continued, "I'm afraid you are too close to this to see . . ."  
  
Irina stood up abruptly and Khasinea stopped talking. She walked to the edge of the porch, standing over Sark with her back to Khasinea. "I can tell that you have been giving this some thought, Alex. And exactly who do you think I'm too close to? Jack or Sydney?" Irina spun around to face Khasinea.  
  
Khasinea considered her question. "I'm certain you are too close to Jack Bristow, otherwise you would have killed him 25 years ago when I gave you the order. And your daughter? I think that no matter what you say -- to yourself or to us --you would do most anything to protect her."  
  
Anger flickered in her eyes, but Irina maintained her outward calm, "Mmmm, that is a very interesting analysis, but there are two flaws in it. First, while most women would feel the things that you describe, I am not most women. And secondly, you do not have the big picture of Rambaldi's vision.  
  
"When we traded Tippin for the page, we thought the page held the missing piece. When putting the page in relation to all of his work, it became obvious that we are farther away from the solution than we thought."  
  
Irina paused to give both men a reproachful glare. "There must be at least three other pieces within his works that we do not have. But I'm certain that Sydney can lead us to one of them."  
  
"That takes us back to my initial question: why did we let her leave Taipei?" Sark asked.  
  
"As you recall, that first day after we got possession of the page, we were pretty busy caring for Sydney," Irina said.  
  
"Ah, yes," Sark said as if he were fondly recalling a memory. "One of my favorite assignments."  
  
Irina smiled at Sark and patted him on the head. "The page had a sketch of a necklace. An unusual necklace that could be separated and made into two necklaces." Irina paused and pulled a chain from under her blouse. "I have one part of that necklace. Sydney has the other."  
  
Khasinea stood up to get a better look. He had never seen Irina wear it before. It was definitely an antique. A thick, rope like chain held a gold medallion approximately two and a half inches in diameter. The center of the medallion had been cut out making it look like a miniature donut. Seven stones, all different colors, were set around the perimeter of the piece. On the back a series of numbers were engraved around the edge. The numbers were so small that they appeared to be an abstract design.  
  
"Where did you get this?" Khasinea asked.  
  
"I bought it many years ago at a flea market. When I bought it, it looked like nothing but costume jewelry, but after a good cleaning . . ." she looked down at the necklace. "I gave Sydney the companion piece."  
  
Sark stood up. "So, by the time you realized this, Sydney's memory was too far gone."  
  
"Yes," Irina said. "I sent our LA team to her house, and to Jack's house but they were unable to find it."  
  
"But it is unlikely that she would remember it now," Khasinea observed.  
  
"It is quite possible that with hypnosis she will remember the necklace and we can recover it." Khasinea looked at her skeptically. "She is the best chance we have at getting the necklace, and completing his work." 


	9. One Remembered

Tomorrow's Promise  
  
Disclaimer: Everything Alias is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, and Touchstone. Please consider this a humble tribute to the genius of the Alias characters and plotlines. No harm intended.  
  
Rating: PG for mild language.  
  
Archive: Please ask first.  
  
Feedback: Welcomed, especially if you like the story enough for me to keep writing it.  
  
Author's Note: Just a reminder that in this story the CIA still thinks that, Sark and Khasinea are working for K-directorate. Sydney is the only one that knows the truth, and she currently can't remember it.  
  
Chapter Nine - One Remembered  
  
Vaughn had stayed at the hospital until Devlin had ordered him to go home and get some rest. Little good that did him. After a shower, he laid in bed until he heard the paper hit his front door. He got the paper and headed for the kitchen to make some coffee. He sat down on a stool at the breakfast bar and spread the paper out in front of him.  
  
Vaughn stared at the date on the front page. He actually had to think for several seconds to figure out that it was Tuesday. Not that it mattered. He had no intentions to go into the office.  
  
After four cups of coffee and 15 articles that he didn't care about, his cell phone rang. Vaughn answered it on the second ring. It was Devlin requesting that he come back to the hospital.  
  
Vaughn was at the hospital in 25 minutes. He had no difficulty finding Devlin since there was an agent every 50 yards that could direct him. Devlin was outside Sydney's room.  
  
"How is she?" Vaughn asked.  
  
"The doctors seem to think that the drugs are out of her system now and we're trying to determine if she remembers anything."  
  
"Can I see her?"  
  
Devlin eyed Vaughn, knowing that Vaughn's intentions were different from his. "Agent Vaughn, you are her handler. Of all the agents in our office, you are uniquely qualified to determine her status."  
  
Vaughn shook his head briefly as if he just woke up. "Yeah, of course." Vaughn hoped that he wasn't blushing. He walked quickly past Devlin and into Sydney's room.  
  
Sydney was sitting up in the bed. She was pale, had deep circles under her eyes, and her hair was a mess. Even so, she took his breath away.  
  
Vaughn surveyed the room. He was surprised to find Jack sitting in a wheelchair near Sydney's bed. Jack also looked pale, but considering that he was in surgery just three hours ago, he looked remarkably good.  
  
There was a doctor standing on the opposite side of the bed, making notes on a clipboard, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. When he saw Vaughn, he walked over to him.  
  
Speaking softly the doctor said, "I'm Dr. Carson. I'm the psychiatrist assigned to Ms. Bristow's case. I take it you are her handler?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm Agent Michael Vaughn." The two men shook hands. "How is she?"  
  
"Well, physically, she is doing well. But, she doesn't know who she is, where she is, and we've been unable to find anyone that she recognizes - not even her father."  
  
"If she doesn't recognize Jack, then she's not likely to recognize me," Vaughn commented.  
  
"That is most likely true, but we're bringing in anybody that was close to her hoping that she will remember somebody. Her recovery will be much quicker if we can find somebody that she feels she can trust."  
  
Vaughn nodded. "What can I say to her?" Vaughn knew that they would be guarding what they said to Sydney until she felt more comfortable. The truth about her life would probably scare her even more than not being able to remember anything.  
  
"You can tell her your name and that you are a co-worker. If there is anything the two of you have shared that might hold a powerful emotion for her you can talk about that. But, do not put it into the context of the CIA. If she asks you any questions, try to answer them truthfully, but do not offer any extra information."  
  
Vaughn chuckled sadly. Obviously this guy knew nothing of his relationship with Sydney. Everything that they shared was in the context of the Agency. They had shared many experiences that would have created a powerful emotion in her, but they were all related to the Agency or they were left unsaid. Their feelings for each other - could something that had gone unspoken create a long-lasting, powerful emotion? He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and walked towards her.  
  
Sydney eyed Vaughn carefully as he approached her. She watched as Jack and Vaughn silently greeted each other with a nod. She studied his face and waited for him to say something.  
  
"Hi," Vaughn said. "How are you doing, Sydney?"  
  
Sydney was silent, still studying his face. Slowly the look on her face changed from a blank stare to a one of confusion. "I know you," Sydney said slowly. "How do I know you?"  
  
Vaughn couldn't help but smile. He shot a glance at Jack. Was it his imagination or was Jack giving him an envious glare? "You and I work together."  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Vaughn," Vaughn had naturally given the name she was familiar with. "Michael Vaughn."  
  
"Vaughn," she repeated his name trying to remember. "Where do we work?"  
  
Vaughn was still basking in the fact that she had remembered, and the question had caught him off-guard. "We, uh. we don't really work anywhere in particular. I mean, we're. uh, we're consultants. We work together to solve other peoples problems."  
  
Sydney pondered that for a moment. "Do I like my job?" she asked.  
  
"Uh, well, some days you do. And some days you don't."  
  
"Do you like your job?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah, most of the time I do," Vaughn answered honestly.  
  
"How do you know him?" Sydney asked suddenly suspicious.  
  
Vaughn was trapped. He didn't know what Jack had or had not told her.  
  
"I work at the same consulting firm that you both work at," Jack said softly from over Vaughn's shoulder.  
  
"I don't think any of you are telling me the truth!" Sydney said. She pointed at Dr. Carson, "I don't know you." She pointed at Jack, "I can't remember you, but you're making me nervous as hell." Finally she pointed at Vaughn, "And you. You seem familiar to me, but I feel sad when I look at you."  
  
She waited for one of them to say something meaningful, but they could not. She gave them a disgusted look and said, "Just leave me alone! Go! And don't come back until you're ready to start telling me what I want to know!" She dismissed them with a wave of her hand.  
  
Jack and Vaughn waited for guidance from Carson. "Sydney, we will give you some time alone, but I will be back soon and we can start filling in things for you."  
  
"Yeah, right," Sydney said sarcastically.  
  
Carson pushed Jack's wheelchair out of the room and Vaughn followed. Before he let the door close, Vaughn looked back at her over his shoulder. She was watching him. Tears filled her eyes. It took every ounce of self restraint he had to keep from running to her and taking her in his arms.  
  
"Agent Vaughn?" Vaughn suddenly became aware that Jack and Carson had been talking to Devlin and now they were all looking at him. Carson repeated his question, "Agent Vaughn, since you have the strongest connection with Ms. Bristow right now, I need you available at all times. Do you mind staying here at the hospital until further notice?"  
  
"Of course not," Vaughn said. He'd do anything - anything to have her back. "Sir?" Vaughn asked Devlin if it was okay with him.  
  
"If it is absolutely necessary," Devlin began.  
  
"It is absolutely necessary if you are serious about forcing her recovery in four days," Carson replied.  
  
"Very well," Devlin agreed. "I'll have somebody bring you your laptop so that you can start working on your report here, Agent Vaughn."  
  
Devlin turned his attention to Jack, "We've got the film developed from the Rambaldi page, Jack. Do you feel up to taking a look at it?"  
  
"Certainly," Jack said. Dr. Carson moved aside so Devlin could get take over. As Devlin started to push Jack's wheel chair down the hall he called to Vaughn over his shoulder, "Agent Vaughn, you might as well come with us."  
  
"Yes, sir," Vaughn said as he fell in step with the Director.  
  
*****  
  
Devlin took them to the waiting room near the elevator. The entire floor had been sealed off and used solely for Sydney and the new elements of SD-6 case. A small command center had been established in the waiting room. Work tables had been set up, phones, computers, printers had been brought in. There was one agent working at one of the computers, and another agent was on the phone. The only other person in the room was standing in front of a bulletin board studying the photographs of the page.  
  
"Mr. Shulte, this is Agent Jack Bristow and Officer Michael Vaughn," Devlin said. "This is Randy Shulte, the best analyst we've got. He's been studying the Rambaldi page most of the morning."  
  
Shulte shook Jack's hand, "Agent Bristow, it is an honor." Shulte turned to Vaughn and shook his hand without comment.  
  
Shulte was tall and slender. With blond hair and light colored eyes behind his large-framed, out-of-date glasses. In his early fourties, Shulte appeared to be like most of the other analysts that thrived in the secured basement labs of the LA office with the exception of his dress. He was wearing a crisp, wine dress shirt with an elegant tie in navy, wine, and yellow, and a pair of khakis that actually reached the top of his shoes instead of falling two inches short.  
  
"Any luck?" Devlin asked Shulte.  
  
"Not much. I've translated the Italian writing," Shulte pulled some papers off a nearby table and gave a copy to each of them. "It appears to be random notes - measurements, calculations, descriptions of buildings, locations of rivers. Much of the text is devoted to a key - Rambaldi wrote that this key was the most critical piece of master work."  
  
Shulte turned to point at the photographs. "He has several sketches here that I think are part of his master work. Of course it is also possible that they are all just decoys meant to confuse his enemies.  
  
"The one that I think has the most potential is this one here," Shulte pointed to an enlarged photo of one of the sketches. It was a flat, circular object with another circle inside of it. In the sketch it appeared that the center circle was rotating.  
  
Vaughn studied the photograph and then turned to Shulte. "So, even though K-directorate has this page and a prototype of the master work, they would not be able to get it to work?"  
  
"Yes, I believe that to be true."  
  
"That is the best news I've heard in a long time," Vaughn mused.  
  
"Do we have any intell on any of these Rambaldi gadgets?" Devlin asked.  
  
"I don't remember any, sir, but I've got a team back at the office and another team at Langley searching all the Rambaldi documents and artifacts that we have."  
  
"Good, keep us informed if you come to any conclusions," Devlin said.  
  
Jack stared at the sketch. "I think I've seen that before," he said. "I just can't remember where." 


	10. Remember

**Tomorrow's Promise**

**Disclaimer:** Everything Alias is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, and Touchstone.  Please consider this a humble tribute to the genius of the Alias characters and plotlines.  No harm intended.

**Rating:** PG for mild language.

**Feedback:** Make my day -- leave me a review.

**Author's Note:** I have not done any research, so everything thing in here is fiction.  I chose to spend my time writing instead of doing research.  Now, if the Honorable Mr. Abrams comes knocking on my door, asking me to join his staff, I'll happily start researching.

**Chapter Ten – Remember Me**

By Tuesday evening, Sydney was sick of Dr. Carson.  She was full of questions and no one would give her any answers.  She wondered who she was and why they wouldn't tell her who she was.  She wondered why she only had two visitors.  She also wondered what was going on in the hallway.  She thought that there was an unusual amount of people in the hallway outside her room.  She had opened her door and counted eight very serious looking men before Carson escorted her back to bed.

The door opened and man walked timidly into her room.  She watched him as he approached.  He was carrying a bouquet of flowers and had a sympathetic smile on his face.

"Hi, Syd," Will said.  He waited, hoping to see a spark of recognition in her eyes.  He saw none.  "I'm Will Tippin."  Still no spark.  "I'm a friend.  Actually, we've been friends for years."  He was obviously nervous.  He held out the flowers to her.  "These are for you."

"Of course they are," she said sardonically.  She saw the hurt look on his face and regretted the comment.  She had no reason to take out her frustration on him.  She looked down at the flowers.  "They're beautiful.  Thank you."

Will sat nervously on the arm of a chair.  "So, uh, you don't recognize me at all, do you?"

"No, I don't," Sydney said.  "Maybe if you tell me something about yourself and how you fit into my life."  Sydney was certain that Carson had already coached this guy, but she had a feeling that she might be able to get some information out of him.  He didn't seem nearly as cold as the others.

"We met in college.  You saved my ass in freshman chemistry, and I've been indebted to you ever since," he smiled whenever he thought about that chemistry class.  What a blessing in disguise that had been.

Sydney smiled too.  "So, we've both graduated, right?"

"Yes, but you're in grad school now.  I'm just a journalist, paying my dues at The Times."

Sydney smiled this time because talking with him was the most productive thing she'd done all day.  "And we're still friends now?  I mean we see each other often?"

Will laughed, "You've threatened to charge me rent."

"But we're just friends?  We've never dated?" she asked.

"Just friends," Will nodded.  Sydney thought that she detected some regret in his voice, but she couldn't be sure.

"Okay, Will Tippin, if we're such good friends, then I can trust you to tell me the truth about what has happened.  Why can't I remember anything?"

Will started shaking his head before she even completed her question, "Syd, I can't… I mean, I don't know."

"Why won't anyone give me a straight answer around here?  How bad can it possibly be?  Do I have a brain tumor?  Have I committed some awful crime?  Have I lost my entire family?  Does nobody have the balls to tell me the truth?"  

Sydney had raised her voice loud enough that Dr. Carson came running into the room with two men in suits following close behind.  "What is going on here?!"  Carson gave Will an accusatory glare.

Sydney felt protective of him for some reason, and spoke before Will had a chance, "**I'll **tell you what is going on here!  I'm tired of you censoring my life!  I'm tired of you sending in your puppets to give me small bits of information but not answering a single significant question!"

Dr. Carson came closer to Sydney's bed.  "Please calm down, Sydney.  I promise you…"

"I will not calm down!  Look, you either start telling me about my life, or I'm checking myself out of this hospital, right now!  Doctor's release or not!"

"Yes, Sydney," Carson was using his most soothing voice.  "It is time that we start that process."  Carson turned to Will and said, "Mr. Tippin, I'm going to ask that you leave for now.  If you want to visit Ms. Bristow again, come by around lunch time tomorrow."

"Okay," Will said softly.  He reached into his jacket and pulled out a framed picture.  He handed it to Sydney.  She looked at the picture and then back at him.  "That's you, me, and Francie, your roommate.  At your birthday party last year."

Sydney looked at the photo and touched it gingerly as if that might help her to remember.  She looked him in the eyes.  "Thank you, Will.  Please come back tomorrow, okay?"

Will gave her a genuine smile.  "You couldn't keep me away."  Will wanted to hug her, but decided against it.  

As Will was leaving the room, Carson spoke to the two men in suits that were still standing near the door, "Could one of you get Vaughn in here?"

*****

After Weiss drove Will to the hospital and escorted him to Sydney's room, he went in search of Vaughn.  After asking three different agents, he found Vaughn in a makeshift office in a room down the hall from Sydney's.

Weiss knocked on the door and stuck his head in, "Hey Vaughn, you got a minute?"

Vaughn didn't even bother to look up from his laptop, "Actually, no."

"Too bad," Weiss said and walked in the room.  The door closed automatically behind him.

Vaughn was sitting at the small table working on his laptop computer.  A printer sat next to his computer and was producing a steady stream of paper.  A box of files sat at Vaughn's feet, some folders lying open on top of it.  Vaughn continued his work, refusing to acknowledge Weiss.

Weiss stood patiently in front of Vaughn, sensitive to the fact that what Vaughn was working on was probably classified.  Weiss knew that he owed Vaughn an apology, but Vaughn certainly wasn't making it easy.

"Mike, I just want to say that I'm sorry for going to Devlin with your hunch about Sydney.  I thought it was the right thing to do at the time, but now . . ."

Vaughn looked up with anger in his eyes, "But now you realize that you were risking her life as well as mine?"

"How could I know that Haladeki was the mole?" Weiss asked raising his voice.

Vaughn stood up, "Eric, even if Haladeki weren't the mole, I'd still be pissed.  The bigger issue here is that I trusted you," Vaughn pointed a finger at Weiss angrily, "And you betrayed me.  You were the only one here that I trusted whole-heartedly, and you . . ." Vaughn's voice was filled with hurt as he let his sentence trail off.  "I can't allow myself to confide in you ever again.  I've got no one to trust."  

Vaughn looked Weiss in the eyes waiting for a response.  When he got none, Vaughn sat back down and started typing again.

Weiss was hurt.  "Mike, I admit that I broke your trust and I'm very sorry.  I made a mistake.  My intentions were good, but I can see now that it was poor judgment.  

"But I've also been there for you whenever you needed me.  For five years I've backed you up when nobody else would.  I've never questioned you . . ."

Vaughn stopped briefly and looked up at Weiss, "You've questioned me plenty in the last few months, buddy."

Weiss pursed his lips, "Well, yeah.  Since you've been Sydney's handler, you've done plenty of things that deserve questioning.  But **you** were always my main concern.  I never went to anybody else with any of my reservations, I came directly to you!"

Vaughn shook his head and returned his attention to his laptop.

Weiss continued, "I was worried about you – you were taking unnecessary risks.  And when Tippin was kidnapped, I knew you would go off with her, risking your job and more importantly your life!"

"That's bullshit, Eric!"  Vaughn stood up again.  "You were worried about your vestment, you told me that yourself!"

"I was worried about my vestment when you let Sark get away!"  Weiss raised his voice to meet Vaughn's.  "And the only reason that I was worried about my vestment then was because I just found out that Darci was pregnant!"

Vaughn had a cutting comment ready but it disappeared at Weiss' confession.  Vaughn narrowed his eyes and studied Weiss trying to determine if the whole conversation had been scripted.

Weiss waited a moment for Vaughn to reply, and when nothing was offered he dismissively waved his hand and said, "Forget it, man."  He stormed out of the room.  

Vaughn dropped his head into his chest.  He did not have time for this.


	11. Constructing a Life

**Tomorrow's Promise**

**Disclaimer:** Everything Alias is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, and Touchstone.  Please consider this a humble tribute to the genius of the Alias characters and plotlines.  No harm intended.

**Rating:** PG for mild language.

**Feedback:** Make my day – leave me a review.

**Authors Note:** As usual, I haven't done my research – the parts about brainwashing and the treatment are truly fiction.

Chapter Eleven – Constructing a Life 

Carson was trying to prepare Sydney for what was coming.  "Sydney, before we start, I want you to know that recovering memory in a case like yours is very difficult.  Treatment for your type of memory loss consists of **months **of cognitive rehabilitation and hypnosis.  And sadly, the rate of success is below 50%," Carson said.  

"And, we don't have months.  For reasons that will become clear as we proceed, there are many people – important people -- that want us to try and recover your memory in four days."  Carson paused to check Sydney's reaction.  He found it odd that Sydney had not reacted to anything that he said.  He continued, "I believe it is impossible that we will be able to recover anything substantial in so short a time.  So, I'm recommending that we do more hypnosis, less cognitive rehabilitation, and spend quite a bit of time just giving you the facts of your life.

"If you agree to this treatment, you will be staying here for the next four days.  You and I will be working much more than we will be sleeping.  After the four days, you'll return to your life, and you will come back to see me on a regular basis where we will continue with the more traditional treatments."

Carson paused again.  Sydney simply nodded her head in understanding.  "I certain that we can give you all the information you need to return to your life, but if we get started and anything becomes too difficult for you, we can stop at any time."

Sydney looked at him for a moment.  "So, there's nothing to lose and everything to gain by trying the four day treatment," she said.

"Yes," Carson replied.

"Okay, lets try it," she said sounding more confident than she felt.

"Good!" Carson tried to sound more enthusiastic than _he_ felt.  "Now, I highly recommend including a support person in this process.  Usually the support person is a spouse, parent, child, or close friend.  You do not have a spouse or child and your father will not be available to participate.  That narrows our choices down to Mr. Tippin or Mr. Vaughn.  Do you have a preference between these two?"

Sydney thought for a moment, started to say something and then stopped and mutely shook her head.

"My recommendation then would be Mr. Vaughn, merely because he is the only person that you have any recognition of.  But, keep in mind that the things we will be talking about are extremely personal.  While Mr. Vaughn knows a lot about you, I doubt that he knows everything.  I'm sure he will be sensitive to this, but you might become uncomfortable."

Sydney was quiet as she thought about what Carson had said.  She was becoming apprehensive about the whole process.  Sydney's intuition told her that her life was not a normal life, and somehow Vaughn played a part in it.  Without knowing what kind of relationship she had with him in the past, it was difficult to say if she would be comfortable with him going through the treatment with her.  But her intuition also told her that Carson wasn't going to offer her very much comfort. 

"Is Mr. Vaughn willing to be my… I mean, is he willing to participate in the process?"

Carson smiled, "Yes, he is."

"Then, yes, I would like Mr. Vaughn to join us," she said.

Carson went to the door and called for Vaughn.  Vaughn walked into Sydney's room carrying several folders.  Carson motioned for him to take a seat at the small table near the window.  The sun was setting and it provided a pleasant view – a pleasant view for a hospital room at least.  

Carson pulled a third chair up to the table then walked to Sydney's bedside.  "It will be easier for all of us if we work at the table," Carson said as he tried to help Sydney out of bed.

Sydney pulled her arm away from the doctor.  "I can make it on my own, thank you," she said haughtily.  Vaughn smiled recognizing the Sydney that he knew.  

She hadn't done much walking since they had rescued her in Taipei, and her steps were slow and shaky.  Dr. Carson held out the chair next to Vaughn for her to sit in, then he sat down on the other side of her.

"Lets start by looking through some photos to see if you recognize any of them," Carson said.

Vaughn opened a folder and started shuffling pages of photos around for her to examine.  Some were of people, some were of buildings or houses.  Sydney vaguely recognized two men: one was Vaughn and the other was Sark.

Vaughn was surprised.  He had felt flattered that Sydney recognized him, but now that she had also recognized Sark he wondered what the connection was between them.  And he felt just a little jealous.

Carson pulled out the two photos, "Sydney, can you tell me anything about either of these two men?"

Sydney pointed at Vaughn's photo and said, "Yeah, this guy is sitting right next to me."  Vaughn smiled again at seeing the old Sydney.  Carson was less pleased by her response.

"We have a lot to cover and not much time to do it in," Carson said.  Sydney was still studying the photos and never looked at Carson.  "Please, take your time, look at them as long as you need to and see if you remember anything about them.  Who they are, how you know them, where you've seen them, any feelings you get from them, even the smallest thing is significant."

Sydney bit her lip nervously and finally said, "The only thing I get from these photos are feelings."

"That's good.  What kind of feelings?" Carson asked.

She pointed to Sark and said, "I don't like this guy.  He gives me the creeps."

"Mmmm," Carson said as he jotted something on his note pad.  "And this man?" he prodded as he pointed at Vaughn's photo.

Sydney felt like a 14-year-old girl having to talk about the guy she had a crush on.  She glanced at Vaughn out of the corner of her eye and could feel herself blush.  "This guy," she pointed to Vaughn's photo, "Is just the opposite.  I like him, I can't say why exactly..." She hesitated, "He makes me feel safe.  He's comfortable… he feels like home."  It was Vaughn's turn to blush now.

"So, you trust this man," Carson pointed at Vaughn with his pen, "Michael Vaughn?"

Sydney and Vaughn made eye contact for the first time.  She studied his face intently, searched his hazel eyes mercilessly.  His pulse quickened under the intensity of her eyes.  He felt inexplicably vulnerable; he felt as if she were reaching for his soul.

"Yes, I do," Sydney said while still looking at him.

Carson quietly observed the two of them.  When they finally broke their shared gaze and looked at him, Carson frowned thoughtfully and made more notes on his note pad.

For the next 30 minutes, Carson walked Sydney though various photos.  He was careful to avoid those that were associated with the CIA or SD-6.  They discussed Will and Francie, her house, her father's house, and the university.  There were no shocks for Sydney during those first 30 minutes, Carson wanted to ease her into it slowly.

When the three of them returned to the table after taking a short break, Carson laid the page that displayed the photographs of her father and her mother.  "Okay, Sydney, here's where things get rough."  He paused.  She nodded her willingness to continue.  "You have no recognition of these people?"  She shook her head.  "No feelings?"

"Nothing," Sydney said.

Carson sighed.  "You already know that this is your father, and this, of course is your mother.  Your mother, Laura, died when you were young, and your father raised you."  Sydney showed no emotion, but simply nodded.  "Your father, Jack, is an active operative for the CIA."

Sydney showed surprise only in her body language – she sat up a little straighter in her chair as if she were paying more attention now.  "You, Sydney, also are an active operative for the CIA," Carson continued.  Sydney's surprise was evident in her eyes, but she still remained silent.  "The reason why you can't remember anything is because on your last assignment, you were captured and drugged – specifically to destroy your memory."

"Brainwashed," Sydney said matter-of-factly.

"Yes," Carson said.  "I'm a physician on the CIA staff.  This is a CIA hospital."

"All the men in the hallway are CIA," Sydney said.

"Yes."  Carson looked at her waiting for some kind of reaction, but she gave none.  "Sydney, aren't you surprised by any of this?"

"If you mean, did I think I was a CIA agent, no, of course not.  But now that you've said it, it doesn't seem so strange to me," she replied.  Carson made a few notes on his pad.  "Is that bad?" she asked.

"I don't know," Carson said truthfully.  "We might not know until we get all of your life in place for you."

Carson introduced the few people she knew from the CIA, leaving Vaughn for last.  "And Vaughn, here, is your handler," Carson said.  Sydney looked at Vaughn and smiled awkwardly.  "All undercover agents have a handler – one intelligence officer that meets with them, gives them their assignments, and keeps them in touch with the company.  Your life rests in his hands, and while it isn't usually the case," Carson shot Vaughn a disapproving glance, "His life has been in your hands more than once."

"I'm an undercover agent?"  Sydney asked.  "What kind of assignments have I been on?"

"You're active on a long term undercover assignment," Carson said.  Sydney wondered why Vaughn didn't talk much.  "SD-6 is an organization that claims to be an intelligence agency – actually part of the CIA.  This organization is, in fact, part of an alliance that deals guns and drugs, among other things.  You worked for them for seven years before you found out the truth.  And when you did,"

"I went to the CIA," Sydney said interrupting Carson.

"Exactly right.  Do you remember that?" Carson said hopefully.

"Maybe.  I have a vague memory of walking across a marble floor that had the CIA badge on it," Sydney answered.

"That's excellent!" Carson said as he made another note on his pad.

Sydney looked at Vaughn, "So, I'm a double agent?"

Vaughn nodded his head.

"Your father is also a double agent, Sydney," Carson said.  "He's an SD-6 officer, one of the few that knows the truth about SD-6."

"Is that how I found out?  Did my father tell me?"

Vaughn looked nervously at Carson.  How much would he tell her?

Carson hesitated, "Yes, he told you about it."

Carson started laying out the pages of photos of people that she knew through her job at SD-6.  It took much longer to detail these people than it had all the other people in her life. Carson was trying to set a good foundation for Sydney to work with when she returned to SD-6.  They discussed Dixon and Marshall.  McCullough and Dreyer.  Anna Espinosa.  The three other agents that Sydney had partnered with before Dixon.  And then Sloane and his wife.

"This is Arvin Sloane.  He's the head of SD-6 – he's your boss.  He's not a good man, Sydney.  You don't care for him… at all," Carson said.

"Why not?" Sydney asked.  "I mean besides the fact that he works for the organization and lies about its purpose."

"We will get into that more later," Carson didn't think she was ready for that yet.  He pointed to the photo of a woman next to the photo of Sloane.  "This is Emily Sloane.  You and her were friends for many years.  Even though you disliked your boss, you liked Emily.  The two of you were very close."

Sydney nodded as she studied Emily's photo.  "While you were on your last mission, Sydney, Sloane and Emily were poisoned.  Emily died and Sloane is still in ICU at an SD-6 hospital."

"What?" Sydney said with a quizzical look on her face.  There was no sadness on her face, just confusion.

"That is all we know.  Both the CIA and SD-6 are investigating it."

"Is there any connection between what happened to me on that last mission and what happened to them?" Sydney asked.

"We don't think so," Carson said.  It was promising that she was still thinking like an agent.

Carson looked at his watch.  "It's 9:00 and we haven't had supper yet," he said as he stood up and stretched.  "Do you have any requests?" he asked Sydney.

"Mmmm, can we get a pizza here?" Sydney asked.  "Pepperoni and black olives?"

"This is the CIA, Sydney.  We can arrange most anything," he smiled at her.  "Lets take a break.  I'll get one of our doormen to go get us some supper."

As Carson walked away Sydney leaned over to Vaughn and whispered, "Have I heard the worst of it?"

Vaughn checked over his shoulder to make sure Carson wasn't close enough to hear him.  "I'm afraid not."


	12. It's All About Mom

**Tomorrow's Promise**

**Chapter 12 – It's All About Mom**

**Author's Note: **No research as usual.  Hypnosis stuff may or may not be accurate.  
  


Also, I write that a CIA report used information from Sydney… the information, that Emily knew Sloane did not work for a bank, was given to them prior to the Taipei adventure.  Because as we all know, Sydney can't remember a thing about her life now… at least in this story.

Jack took his final bite of General Tsao chicken and pushed his plate to the side of the table.  Just eating was an ordeal with his injuries.  He looked at his watch.  His first morning back at SD-6 was spent in a meeting with the Alliance Directors.  They asked him to step in as acting director for SD-6 during Sloane's absence.  This complicated Jack's life even more, but it would have been suspicious if he had declined.  
  


Sloane had recovered from the poisoning and had been released from the hospital that morning.  He planned to return to work within a week.  The Alliance had completed their investigation of the incident and had approved Sloane's return.  Jack knew that the only people that would ever know the facts of the case were the twelve Alliance directors.  

The LAPD would never solve the case, and within a few months the case file would disappear from the system and no one would ever miss it.  

The CIA report hypothesized, based on information from Jack and Sydney, that Arvin Sloane had put the poison in the wine that evening.  What they didn't hypothesize on was if Slone had intended to commit suicide.  The report simply stated that Sloane may have intended to die with his wife.  Jack doubted that highly.  
  


Dixon walked into the restaurant and spotted Jack.  As Dixon approached his table, Jack stood up.  "Thank you for coming, Dixon," Jack said as they shook hands.  He motioned for Dixon to take a seat.

"I figured that it was important," Dixon said as he sat down.  "Having to meet outside of work."

"Yes, it is important."  Jack looked directly into Dixon's eyes.  "It's about Sydney."

Dixon hesitated before asking, "Is she okay?"

"Physically, yes, she is fine," Jack paused.  "But emotionally… well, she's having a difficult time."

Dixon looked thoughtful, "Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes, there is," Jack replied.  "Sydney told me that you followed her and confronted her outside of one of our storage facilities."  A look of concern covered  Dixon's face.  After an awkward silence Jack said, "I'm asking you on behalf of Sydney… and myself… please do not report her."

Dixon studied Jack's eyes.  "How do you know that I haven't already reported her?" Dixon asked.

"Because if you had, Sydney would already be dead," Jack flatly replied.  "Dixon, you are one of our best agents, and the best partner Sydney has ever had."  Jack hesitated before adding, "Sydney considers you as more than a partner – she considers you a friend.

"I'm certain that you have noticed that Sydney has been acting differently lately," Jack continued.  "Several months ago Sydney came across some information that indicated that her  mother may still be alive and working with K-directorate."

"What?" Dixon exclaimed.

"Yes," Jack reassured him, "There is a chance that Laura is alive.  And even though I discouraged her, Sydney started a search for her mother.    
  


"About two weeks ago, Sydney was contacted by a man claiming to have information on where her mother was living.  In exchange for the information, this man wanted one of the Rambaldi pages – one that was in our storage facility.

"It was a very foolish thing to do, but Sydney hasn't been herself ever since Danny's death.  This futile crusade to find her mother would never have happened before.  I've know that she has had trouble dealing with Danny's death, but she had never done anything to jeopardize herself or the agency…"

"Until now," Dixon prompted.

"Until now," Jack conceded.  "But, I assure you Dixon, if I had know what she was up to, I would have stopped her."

"So, what happened?" Dixon asked.

"Apparently, during the exchange, Sydney realized that the man had no valuable information to give her.  She eliminated him, brought the page to me, and told me what had happened.  I have already returned the page to the storage facility."

It wasn't a total lie.  Jack had in fact returned a Rambaldi page to the SD-6 storage facility, but it was a blank counterfeit page created by the CIA.

Dixon was an analyst through and through.  He thought carefully over what Jack said and reconciled it with what he already knew.

"Where is she now?" Dixon asked.

"After she came to me and told me what had happened, I convinced her that she needed to take a break and get herself straightened out.  Knowing there was no one else that she could talk to about this, I booked a two week sailing cruise for the two of us.  Sydney is still on cruise… hopefully gaining some valuable perspective.  She plans to return for Emily's funeral."

Dixon stared at Jack impassively.  "Dixon, she's been through so much this year – Danny's death, your shooting, and now this wild goose chase for her mother – she deserves another chance.  Please, don't report her."  
  


Dixon still had a lot of questions, but he knew Jack was not the one to answer them.  Then he thought back over his two years with Sydney and all they had been through together.  He agreed.  Sydney definitely deserved his support, and he would give it to her freely.  
  


*****  
  


Jack was a few minutes late.  He walked into one of the hospital observation rooms.  The room was filled with equipment used for monitoring a patient's status – heart rate, respiration, body temperature – everything was tracked very closely.  Two men sat near the two-way mirror.  One of the men turned around and nodded silently at Jack.  Jack recognized the man as one of Sydney's doctors.  The other man was focused on the equipment.  The doctor pulled up a chair so Jack would have a clear view of the proceedings.

Carson had already put Sydney into a hypnotic state, and was giving her suggestions to make her more comfortable.  Sydney was lying in a leather bound recliner with her eyes closed, looking more relaxed than she had in months.  Dr. Carson sat in a chair next to her, and Vaughn was seated on her other side, looking concerned as usual.  Jack wondered if Vaughn had slept at all since the Taipei fiasco.

"Okay, Sydney, I want you to travel back in time…" Carson spoke in a soothing voice, "Back to the earliest memory that you have… Are you there?"  Sydney nodded silently with a furrowed brow and a frown.  "Where are you?" Carson asked.

"A funeral home," Sydney replied.  Her lips started to quiver.

"Is there a funeral going on right now?" Carson asked.  He started scribbling notes in her chart.  The fact that Sydney was able to connect with memories under hypnosis meant that the brainwashing could be reversed.

"Yes," Sydney said.  Her eyes remained closed but tears started running down her face.

"Whose funeral, Sydney?"

"My… my… mom," Sydney stuttered as the crying turned into bawling.

"Sydney.  Sydney!" Dr. Carson was trying to get Sydney's full attention.  "Sydney, listen to my voice.  You are to see these scenes as an observer only.  Watch what is going on and tell me about it.  You should not be concerned with them --  do not get emotionally involved."  Sydney's crying slowed down.  "Do you understand?"

Sydney nodded as the final tears slid off her face and landed on her shirt.

"Good.  Now move forward Sydney away from the funeral."  Carson gave her a few moments then said, "Where are you now?"

"College… no, grad school."

"What do you see?" Carson asked while making a note in Sydney's chart.

"Danny…"  As Sydney spoke his name she smiled.  "He's on his knees… he's singing that awful song…" Sydney giggled.  "He's proposing!"

Sydney's smile transformed quickly into a frown.  "No, I can't… Danny, you don't know… How can I marry you when you don't know…?"

"Move forward, Sydney," Carson said.  Vaughn braced himself.  He knew what was next.  Carson also knew what was next, but he hoped that if Sydney could experience the traumatic events of her life under hypnosis she might be able to remember them when she woke up… especially if they were very traumatic.  "Remember to view as an observer only… don't get involved."

Carson lead Sydney through her memories up to the Taipei trip, spending significant time on her memories of Danny's death and Noah's death.  She had managed to remain detached for the most part.  In the observation room, Jack stood up.  He was agitated.  It was difficult for him to watch Sydney go through this.  It was difficult to listen as she described her feelings about him – when she found out he worked at SD-6… that he was CIA… when Russek had been sacrificed… when she thought he was KGB… when she found Tippin in Paris…

"It's enormous!" Sydney exclaimed as she relived the Taipei mission.  "If I destroy this, it would…"  

The monitors in the observation recorded Sydney's heartbeat as it increased rapidly.  Her respiration also increased.  Her brainwaves fluxuated wildly.  The doctor in the observation room spoke to Carson through his ear phone.  "Dave, she's losing control…" he warned.

"Vaughn!  NO Vaughn!  Run… dammit, run faster!"  Sydney started yelling and jerking in the chair.  She started flailing her arms.  "Vaughn!  I can't…!  Noooooo!"

"Pull her out, Dave!" the observation doctor yelled.

Carson dropped the chart and grabbed Sydney's arms trying to calm her down so that she would listen to his voice.  Even with her eyes closed, Sydney was able to easily connect her fist to Carson's face.  Carson fell backwards.

Vaughn took a different approach.  Instead of trying to grab her arms, Vaughn quickly pushed them down to her sides and then laid his torso across hers, grabbing the chair with his hands and lying his head next to her neck so she couldn't head butt him.  Sydney continued to struggle against him but was unable to break his hold.

Carson stood up as Jack and the doctor from the observation room burst in the door.  Carson wiped some blood from the corner of his mouth, then moved closer to Sydney.

Suddenly Sydney stopped struggling.  "Mom?  What are you doing?… You have to pay for what you've done… for what you've done to **him…" **Sydney started to struggle against Vaughn again as she let out a loud, frustrated scream.

 "Sydney!" Carson tried to get her attention.  "Listen to my voice, Sydney!  As I count backwards, you will wake up feeling refreshed and relaxed!"  Sydney stopped struggling with Vaughn as Carson started counting.  "Five… Four… starting to wake up now… Three… Two… more awake… and one, wide awake."

Sydney's eyelids fluttered open.  She looked peaceful, as if she had just woken from a beautiful dream.  Vaughn released his grip on her and slowly stood up.  Sydney looked at the four men staring at her.  Her focus was pulled to Carson and the blood at the corner of his mouth.

"What happened to you?" she asked with a slight smile.  Obviously Sydney did not remember anything she had been through in the last hour.

Vaughn moved back to stand next to Jack.  Without moving his eyes from Sydney Vaughn asked softly, "That last part there… did she say **Mom**?"

Jack hesitated then answered, "Yes, I'm afraid she did."


	13. Decisions

**Tomorrow's Promise**

  
**Author's Note:** I don't know anything about CIA training, and there's probably a good reason for that.  
  


**Chapter Thirteen - Decisions**  
  


Will walked into Vaughn's makeshift office.  He was sprawled on the hospital bed with his arm draped across his eyes, trying to get some much needed sleep.  It was 10:00 on Thursday morning.  Vaughn had been at the hospital for 48 hours straight.  Will debated on whether to wake him.  
  


"What's up Will?" Vaughn asked without removing his arm from his eyes.  
  


"Do they teach you how to do that in training?" Will asked.  
  


"Do they teach us how to do what?" Vaughn asked.  
  


"To see through things," Will said, "Like your eyelids, your arm… walls…"  Vaughn replied only with a chuckle.  Will continued, "The reason I ask is that I'm thinking about doing that – going into training."  
  


Vaughn sat up slowly to look at Will.  "What makes you think you want to do that?" he asked.  
  


"Well, the exotic locales and beautiful women, of course," Will deadpanned.  Vaughn sighed and grinned just a little.  "Apparently, I only have two choices," Will said.  "Witness relocation or join up."  
  


"Honestly, Will, you do have a third option -- to do nothing.  But, of course, we can't  guarantee your safety," Vaughn said.  
  


"Apparently, you guys can't guarantee my safety with the other two options either," Will said.  Vaughn chose not to reply.  Will walked closer to the bed.  "I don't want to give up my life.  I don't want to say goodbye to my family and friends.  I don't want to start over again…" Will looked down at the floor and mumbled, "I don't want to be alone."  
  


Vaughn understood what Will was saying – he didn't want to be without Sydney.  If anybody understood that, it was Vaughn.  But still he wondered if that was enough to get Will through field training.  
  


"Has anybody told you what training is like?  What your life will be like when you come back?" Vaughn asked.  "You say that you don't want to give up your life.  If you become an agent your life will never be the same."  
  


Will looked Vaughn in the eyes.  "Yeah, Weiss has gone over all of that."  
  


Vaughn shook his head thoughtfully.  "It's not an easy life, you know.  It's not easy for me, and considering your circumstances, it won't be easy for you."  
  


"Vaughn, I've made up my mind."  
  
Vaughn sighed.  "Okay.  I won't be able to get you going on this until after Sydney is back…"  
  


"Weiss has already made all the arrangements, and Devlin has signed off on it.  I'm headed to Langley this afternoon," Will said.  
  


"Wow," Vaughn shook his head.  "You **must** be serious about this.  I'm guessing that you won't be going through all of the traditional training – the assignments at the D.O.D.* and such," Vaughn said.  Will shook his head.  "So, how long will you be at Langley?"  
  


"They're saying five to six months," Will replied.  
  


"Has Weiss got you a cover?"  
  


"Yeah," Will said.  "Apparently, I'm going on a bike tour of Europe.  Alone.  And I'll be writing a series of articles on it for the paper."  
  


"You talked your boss into that?" Vaughn asked.  
  


"It wasn't easy, but she finally gave in when I told her I would give up my salary and she could just pay me per article."  
  


"Good thinking… Well then," Vaughn stood up and walked over to his worktable.  He pulled a business card out of his wallet, turned it over and scribbled a number on it.  He walked over to Will and gave him the card.  "That's my cell number.  It's totally secure.  If you need anything, any time, call me."  
  


"Thanks, man," Will replied.  He turned the card over.  Vaughn's name and job title were imprinted on it: Michael Vaughn, Security Analyst, US Department of Defense.  
  
Vaughn reached out to shake Will's hand.  "As soon as things get settled down, I'll be out to visit," Vaughn promised.  Will nodded appreciatively.  "Good luck, Will."  
  


*****  
  


Shortly after Will left, Vaughn wandered out into the hall.  He needed a change of scenery – any change of scenery would do.  Vaughn glanced down the hall towards Sydney's room wondering if he should check in on her.  He saw Weiss sitting in a chair across from Sydney's door.  Vaughn sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  He walked slowly down the hallway.

Weiss glanced at him as he approached and then quickly returned his eyes to Sydney's door.  "Hey," Vaughn said.

"Hey," Weiss replied without looking at him.

"Will saying goodbye to Sydney?" Vaughn asked.

"Uh-huh," Weiss said.  
  


After a pause Vaughn said, "Thanks for making all the arrangements for Will."

"It's my job."  
  


Vaughn thought about walking away.  Instead, he grabbed a nearby chair and set it by Weiss.  He turned it so that he could straddle it, rest his arms on the back and look Weiss directly in the eyes.  
  


"Look, Eric… I'm…  I'm sorry I was such an asshole the other day," Vaughn said.  
  


Weiss finally looked at Vaughn.  He was conflicted.  He was hurt by the way Vaughn treated him, and he'd had 24 hours to stew in self-righteousness.  But he also knew that he had betrayed Vaughn and it could have cost Vaughn his life.  Weiss pondered: admit fault or continue the feud?  
  


"You **were** an asshole," Weiss said coldly.  After a short pause he said, "But I deserved it."  Vaughn smiled at him.  "Seriously, Mike, I'm really sorry about going to Devlin.  If anything had happened to you or Sydney…" Weiss stopped abruptly.  "I mean, if anything worse had happened… I mean… if you guys had been killed…"  
  


"Stop, Eric!  I know that you didn't mean for any of that to happen…" Vaughn said.  "Can we just forget all of it?"  
  


"I doubt that we will ever forget it," Weiss said referring to the entire Taipei mission.  "But, between you and me?  Already forgotten."  
  


They smiled at each other awkwardly.  Then Weiss held out his arms and said, "How 'bout a hug, Mikey?"  
  


Vaughn was happy to be clowning around with Weiss again.  "Hey," he exclaimed as he remembered something Weiss had said, "Congratulations on the baby, man.  I didn't even know that you guys were trying."  
  


"That… well…" Weiss dropped his eyes and his voice, "We weren't actually trying, and…" He looked back up at Vaughn, "Darci had a miscarriage."  
  


Vaughn was silent for a moment.  He had little experience with this type of conversation.  "Uh, I'm sorry," Vaughn tried to read Weiss' eyes, "I think…?"  
  


"It's been a tough time for us," Weiss said sadly.  Vaughn waited patiently for him to continue.  "Mike, I'm not even sure I want to start a family.  I don't know if I can handle those type of complications – I mean, considering what I do for a living."  Mike nodded sympathetically.  "And, I thought Darci was with me on this.  But, when she got pregnant… things changed… **she** changed."  
  


Vaughn thought long and hard about his response.  "I'm sorry, Eric."  
  


*****

*D.O.D. – Department of Defense


	14. Familiar Faces

**Tomorrow's Promise**

**Chapter Fourteen – Familiar Faces**

Sydney walked in the door of her house late on Sunday evening.  The four days of intensive treatment had failed.  Sydney remembered nothing about her life.  

She spent her last two days in the hospital studying the details of her life.  She worked with Vaughn learning about her missions, both CIA and SD-6.  She worked with her father on her childhood and details of SD-6 that Vaughn did not know.  Before Will left, he had detailed her years in college.  Armed with only facts and photographs, she had to be the Sydney Bristow that everybody else remembered.  
  


Tomorrow she had to return to work and attend Emily's funeral.  Tonight, she had to face Francie.   
  


"Syd!" Francie exclaimed when she heard the door open and close.  She got up from the couch and greeted her with a hug.  "I'm so glad you're home!  I've never been so lonely in all my life!"  Francie released her.  
  


"It's good to be home," Sydney said.  
  


Francie suddenly frowned at her, "Why didn't you call me?!  I was going crazy!  When you didn't come home and I couldn't get you on your cell phone, I was so worried that something had happened to you.  Thank God that I was able to get Will on his cell!  I was ready to file a missing person report on you!"  
  


So the CIA had missed something and Will had covered for her.  Maybe he was making a good career move.  
  


"Sorry," Sydney said.  "My boss asked me to stay longer.  I couldn't say no.  And I was so busy that I never found time to call."  
  


"You know what?" Francie asked rhetorically, "It doesn't even matter.  I'm just so glad you're home."  Francie hugged her again.  
  


This time when Francie pulled away, she studied Sydney.  A look of concern covered her face.  "Are you okay, Syd?  You don't look too good."  
  


Sydney was ready for this one.  "I've had a rough week," Sydney said.  "I'm tired, and I've got to be at work early tomorrow.  And on top of all that, I've to attend a funeral."  
  


"Oh, Syd!" Francie said sypathetically.  "Who?"  
  


"My boss' wife, Emily."  
  


"Oh, you really liked her, didn't you?" Francie asked.  
  


"Yeah, I did," Sydney replied.  
  


"I'm sorry Syd."  
  


"I'll get through it," Sydney said with a small smile.  "I always do."  Sydney forced a big yawn.  "I'm so tired, Francie.  I hope you don't mind it I go to bed straight away."  
  


"No supper?" Francie asked obviously concerned.  
  


"I grabbed a salad at the airport," Sydney said as she pulled her carry-on down the hall towards her bedroom.  
  


"Some things never change," Francie commented.  
  


*****

The next morning, Sydney was up early and out of the house before Francie woke up.  Jack had suggested that they meet for breakfast and go into the office together.  Sydney agreed.  
  


Once inside SD-6 headquarters, Jack casually walked Sydney to her desk and then headed for Sloane's office.  "We'll leave at 2:30," he called back over his shoulder.  
  


They had arrived early enough that Sydney could get familiar with her surroundings before Dixon arrived.  
  


"If anybody at SD-6 could figure out that you're faking it, it would be Dixon," Jack had told her during one of their sessions.  
  


Sydney got a cup of coffee and discretely examined the rest of the office.  Back at her desk, she had another problem.  She didn't know her logon or her password.  Panic washed over her.  She looked into Sloane's office, but Jack wasn't there.  Her palms started to sweat as she tried to figure out how to get into her computer.  
  


She heard footsteps approaching from behind her.  "Please don't be Dixon!  Please don't be Dixon!" Sydney prayed silently.  
  


A piece of paper dropped on her desk.  She looked at the jumble of letters and numbers, and then smiled broadly.  It was her logon ID and password!  Sydney looked up to watch her father walk into Sloane's office, holding a steaming cup of coffee.  
  
  


As she logged on to the SD-6 system, Sydney prayed it wasn't too complex.  Jack had told her that she should go through her email and if she needed help with anything to send a copy to him.  The CIA had provided them with customized PDAs that could download information from any computer system, encrypt it, and send it anywhere.  Jack and Sydney's PDA's were directly linked using a form of wireless LAN.  They would be able to share information with absolute security.  
  
Sydney was overwhelmed by the amount of email she had, and was still working on it when Dixon arrived.  She hadn't noticed him when he approached, but she did notice the 'Java Doctor' bag that he set on her desk.  Sydney recalled from her lessons that the Java Doctor was her favorite coffee house and that she and Dixon often went there.  
  


She gave him a warm smile.  "What's this?" she asked.  
  


"Your favorite," Dixon answered matching her smile.  
  


She opened the bag to find a strawberry and cream cheese croissant.  "You're the best, Dixon!"  She took the pastry out of the bag and took a bite.  
  


"Well, it's good to have you back," Dixon replied.  He moved around to his desk, took his jacket off, hung it on the back of his chair, and sat down.  "You know about what's been going on around here?"  
  


"If you're talking about Sloane, yes, I do."  Dixon nodded at her.  "Are you going to the funeral?" Sydney asked.  
  


"Yeah, Diane too," Dixon said referring to his wife.  
  


"It's a sad day," Sydney said.  
  


"Uh-huh," Dixon nodded absentmindedly.  He studied her in silence for a while – long enough for Sydney to get nervous.  Finally he said, "Syd, you know that you can talk to me any time, right?"  Sydney met his gaze.  "About anything."  
  
Sydney looked into his eyes.  "Yes, Dixon, I do… Thank you."  And as it is with good partner teams, they both understood the deeper meaning of their statements.  Dixon wanted Sydney to know that he was loyal to her, and Sydney thanked Dixon for keeping her secret.


	15. Another Step Away

**Tomorrow's Promise**

**Author's Note**: This is a gift to all my wonderful readers that are unhappy that I have Vaughn with someone else in my other fic.  Hope this gets me back in your good graces.  
  


**Feedback**: Make my day – leave me a review.****

**Chapter Fifteen – Another Step Away**

Happily for Sydney, the week passed quickly.  She spent most of her time at work reviewing reports and analyzing bits of intell.  She had been afraid she wouldn't be able to fake that kind of stuff.  But as it turned out, those tasks came easily to her.  She spent several evenings with Jack, telling Francie that he was making a sincere effort to improve their relationship.  The other evenings she spent with Francie.  She met with Vaughn twice.  When the weekend arrived, Sydney told Francie that she had another trip, and she spent the weekend at CIA headquarters reviewing her history with Jack and Vaughn, and working with Carson to try and retrieve memories.  
  


When she was with Francie or Dixon, Sydney was careful to avoid conversations that might lead to talking about past events.  When she was with Vaughn, Sydney tried to keep her focus on the missing pieces of her life.  But that was becoming more difficult with each passing day.  
  


She felt most comfortable when she was with Vaughn.  And when she wasn't with him she was thinking about him.  She couldn't deny that she was attracted to him.  Had she been attracted to him before?  How could she not?  His amazing hazel colored eyes.  His sandy blond hair that he always seemed to have a hand in.  The way the corners of his mouth moved into a soft smile and the way the blush moved up his cheeks when she looked at him intently.  The way he occasionally rested a hand on her arm.  She believed that he was the sweetest man she ever met, but considering that her oldest memories were only two weeks old, that didn't say much.  
  


Saturday night, they were working late in his office.  They ordered sandwiches and salads and had taken a break to eat.  Since every surface in his office was covered with papers and photographs, they made themselves comfortable on the floor.  
  


"I'm just so tired of my life!" Sydney exclaimed.  She laughed a little when she heard how that sounded.  "Can we talk about something else, please?"  
  


He smiled that soft smile that she had become so fond of – a combination of happiness and concern.  She wondered if he ever really smiled – ear to ear.  She tried to picture what he would look like.  
  


"Sure," he said.  "What do you want to talk about?"  
  


Sydney looked him over.  He seemed unusually relaxed tonight.  The constant look of concern seemed to vanish with his suit.  He was wearing a plain, gold t-shirt, a pair of faded jeans that just begged for attention, and a pair of beat up Reebok running shoes.  The gold shirt reflected in his eyes, bringing out the golden flecks.  She inhaled deeply.  He had the sweet, clean smell of freshly laundered clothes.    
  


"How about you?" Sydney suggested.  
  


"Me?" he raised his eyebrows.  "My life is not nearly as interesting as yours."  
  


"Well, I'm thinking that a normal life would be a refreshing change of pace," Sydney said as she slipped off her sandals.  
  


"Did I say that my life was normal?" Vaughn countered with a sly smile.  
  


"Now, I'm really intrigued," Sydney said leaning forward.  "Not interesting, and not normal… Start talking, Mr. Vaughn."  
  


Vaughn grinned.  "What do you want to know?"  As he waited for her reply, he took her in.  She was becoming more like her old self, but she was still just a little different.  It seemed that the lack of a personal history had liberated her – given her a new freedom to enjoy life.  She was absolutely glowing.  Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore very little make up… but with a natural glow like that, she didn't need make up.  She was wearing a white shirt with three-quarter sleeves and brightly colored, horizontal stripes.  Her navy Capri pants hugged every curve from her waist to her calf.  Looking at her bare feet with her dainty, painted toenails, and simple silver toe ring, Vaughn realized that he had never seen her that way before.  He was overcome with a feeling of intimacy.   
  


"Okay, start with why your life is not normal."  Sydney changed positions so that she was lying on her stomach with her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.  She bent her arms and rested he chin on her palms.  She looked very much like a teenage girl at a sleep over playing 'Truth or Dare'.  
  


"Well, lets just skip right over the multiple choice questions and go straight for the essay, huh professor?  No 'favorite subject in school' question?  No 'most influential person' question?"  
  


Sydney laughed.  "Well, we can start with those cocktail party subjects, if you like, but I'll eventually get back around to asking the ones with substance," she said with a wink.  
  


Vaughn shook his head slightly as if he wasn't sure of what he had just seen.  He leaned back against his office couch, pulled up his knees and spread them apart so that when she looked at him her eyes had to travel up his legs, over his hips and chest and finally to his face.  Later he would tell himself that he didn't consciously do that, but at the moment, he was fully aware of what he was doing.  
  


He picked up his can of Pepsi and took a drink wishing it were a beer.  "Why my life is not normal, by Michael Vaughn," he said dramatically.  He set his empty can down.  "Well, let's start with the obvious: nobody knows what I really do for a living.  I never know from one day to the next if I will be sitting behind a desk or off a foreign country trying to track down a terrorist armed only with a cell phone a sharp stick."  
  


Sydney laughed again.  Vaughn continued, "I spend so much time at work that my own dog barks at me like I'm a burglar."  Vaughn frowned trying to come up with more examples.  He held his hand out to Sydney like he was offering her dessert, "The only things in my refrigerator are left over pizza, a two year old jar of Miracle Whip, and a six pack.  **That's** not normal."  
  


"You have a gift for hyperbole, I think," Sydney remarked.  
  


Vaughn smiled, "Okay, then, the not so obvious: crazy Aunt Trish with her past lives, aura readings, and premonitions." Vaughn paused, thinking back, "There's my college roommate who grew marijuana in our bathtub to pay his way through law school.  And let's not forget my first girlfriend, who after dating me for a year and a half decided that she was a lesbian."  
  


"Seriously?" Sydney exclaimed.  
  


"Seriously," Vaughn said shaking his head disgustedly.  "And the thing that really gets me is that she is living happily ever after while I'm still alone…" Vaughn's voice trailed off as he realized how desperate that statement sounded.  
  


They stared at each other.  Finally, Vaughn said, "And then about 10 months ago, my life took another serious step away from normal when a ragged-looking woman in a cherry red wig showed up in my office."  Vaughn smiled slightly.  Sydney didn't know whether to blush or be insulted.  She pushed up and swung her legs around so that she was now sitting dangerously close to him.  Her bare feet were nested inside his feet.  
  


"Now, my whole world revolves around SD-6… Double agents… Rambaldi… my father's death…"  
  


When Vaughn mentioned his father's death, Sydney dropped her eyes to the floor.  After Sydney's first hypnosis session, Jack told her that her mother killed many CIA agents, including Vaughn's father.  He also told her that there was a possibility that her mother wasn't dead, and her hypnosis seemed to validate that.  
  


"And you…" he said softly.  She looked up into his eyes.  His eyes locked with hers momentarily, then he closed his eyes, lowered his head and shook it slowly.  He couldn't believe he was steering the conversation that way.  
  


Sydney stared at him debating whether to ask the question.  Finally she spoke, "Vaughn, is our relationship more than just agent-handler?"  
  


Vaughn silently cursed himself for letting the conversation go this direction.  He kept his eyes closed and spoke softly, "We're agent-handler, and we're friends.  Nothing more than that."  
  


"Oh," Sydney said, her voice thick with disappointment.  
  


Vaughn quickly looked up at her.  "Don't get me wrong, Syd."  Vaughn chose his next words carefully.  "The feelings are there.  It's just that as long as SD-6 is around – as long as it is a threat to you – there's no way for us to move beyond our professional relationship."  
  


Sydney quickly sat up.  She was kneeling in between Vaughn's legs.  She reached out to him, touching his chest first.  Vaughn closed his eyes again and took a deep breath.  Sydney moved her hands up to his neck and followed the gentle slope of his shoulders down to his bare arms.  Her touch sent shivers through his body.  His pulse quickened.  She walked her fingers over his biceps, gently massaging them.  His breath became ragged as he tried to control his desire.    
  


Sydney put a hand on the side of his face, "Look at me Michael," she demanded softly.  It was the first time she called him by his first name.  He opened his eyes.  He looked at her.  He saw the desire in her eyes, and he knew what she was planning.  His brain told him he had to stop her.  Common sense and logic warned that nothing good could come of it.  But every other part of his body was screaming for him to make first contact.  
  


"Syd, I…"  Vaughn's protest was short lived.  Sydney brought her lips to his and kissed him.  Vaughn had never experienced a kiss like that before.  Everything that was the wonder of her was in her kiss.  He didn't dare close his eyes for fear that he might miss a millisecond of their union.  
  


Vaughn put his hands on her hips.  As they continued kissing, Sydney climbed into his lap and straddled him.  Her hands roamed over his face, neck, and through his hair.  
  


Sydney had never wanted anything with the intensity that she wanted Vaughn right then.  But as much as she tried to ignore it, her conscious nagged her.  It wasn't fair to him.  It wasn't really fair to either of them, but Sydney was content to live in this moment.  She wasn't sure that Vaughn could do the same.  
  


Sydney pulled away from his kiss, but remained on his lap.  "Vaughn," she spoke breathlessly, "I'm sorry, but… we just can't do this."  
  


Vaughn's heart sank when she returned to addressing him by his surname.  He searched her eyes.  He sighed heavily and nodded, "You're right."  
  


Sydney lingered a little bit longer on his lap.  When she started to move away from him, he pulled her back down.  He had convinced himself that he could not live if he didn't have her right then.  In one smooth motion, Vaughn leaned forward, laid her on her back, and lay down on top of her.  
  


He looked at her one more time to make sure she wasn't going to object, and then he kissed her.  After a few minutes, they started tugging at each other's clothes.  
  


They were taken by surprise when Weiss walked into Vaughn's office.  Weiss was unable to see them at first.  "Mike?  Why don't you and Sydney take a break," Weiss started looking around the office, "And let's all go to Murphy's for a…" Weiss stopped abruptly when he saw them.  Vaughn had rolled off Sydney by that time, but he couldn't get his shirt on fast enough.  
  


"Whoa, Jesus!" Weiss exclaimed as he quickly turned around.  "Wrong office," Weiss said apologetically as he walked out the door.  
  


"Dammit!" Vaughn said.  The interruption was enough to bring them both to their senses.


	16. Returns

**Tomorrow's Promise**

**Feedback:** As always, I love reviews!

**Author's Note:** Kind of a boring chapter, but they can't all be Vaughn & Syd!  
  


**Chapter Sixteen – Returns**

The following Monday, Sloane returned to work as expected.  The first thing he did was meet with Jack for a briefing of what had happened in his absence.  Outwardly, Sloane acted no different than usual.  Calm, cool, restrained.  Only when Jack informed him that they had acquired several new Rambaldi artifacts, did Sloane show interest.  
  


When the briefing was complete Jack ventured into personal issues.  "How are you doing, Arvin?"  
  


"Honestly, Jack, I'm very glad to be back.  It is a welcomed distraction.  When I'm at home, all I think about is Emily."  
  


Having been through the same experience, Jack nodded knowingly.  "I'm constantly reviewing our life together," Sloane said sadly.  A small smile crossed his lips, "Do you remember when the four of us went on that vacation to Acapulco?"  
  


"That was so long ago," Jack commented with a touch of melancholy.  
  


"Yes it was.  But those were good times," Sloane mumbled as he thought back to the trip.  "Do you remember how Emily and Laura insisted in stopping at every flea market we came across?"  Sloane laughed.  
  


Thinking back to his life with Laura was painful, but Jack indulged him.  "Yes.  You and I would sit and drink beer while they haggled with the merchants."  
  


"Warm beer most of the time," Sloane added.  "And they kept buying those hideous necklaces…!"  
  


Jack let out a laugh, "They **were** awful.  I'm certain Laura threw them out within a month's time."  Jack shook his head remembering Laura's odd attraction to flea markets.  They had the means to buy most anything and yet she still went to flea markets at least twice a month.  Usually, she came home with several odd items.  He wondered what happened to all that stuff.  There were very few things to go through after she died.  
  


A spark of recognition ignited in his brain.  Suddenly Jack remembered where he had seen the Rambaldi necklace.  Laura had bought it at a flea market.  She gave the inner pendant to Sydney and kept the outer pendant.  He scoured his memory.  He couldn't remember Laura ever wearing it, but he also couldn't remember finding it in her possessions after her death.  
  


Sydney, however, wore her pendant every day for three years after Laura's death.  But he hadn't seen Sydney wear it in years.  
  


*****  
  


When Jack got home that night, he searched through the few boxes of Laura's stuff that he had kept.  Then he searched through Sydney's bedroom.  He found nothing.  
  


Jack requested a meeting with Vaughn and Sydney the next day.  They met at headquarters.  Jack told them what he remembered about the necklace and they showed Sydney a copy of the Rambaldi page.  They were not surprised that Sydney did not remember it.  That night, Sydney searched her house for it.  She couldn't find the necklace or anything else related to her mother.  She must have gotten rid of everything associated with her mother when she learned the truth.  
  


Even though they assumed the necklace to be lost, at her next session with Carson, they tried using hypnosis to find it.  Everyone was thrilled when under hypnosis, Sydney remembered saving some of Laura's things including the necklace.  She had stored them in a safety deposit box.  She kept the key for the box hidden away in her jewelry box.  
  


That Saturday, Jack accompanied Sydney to the bank to retrieve the necklace.  They were careful to make sure that they were not followed to the bank or back to CIA headquarters.  They delivered the piece to Schulte, who was fast becoming an expert on Rambaldi and his work.  He was leading the Tech Services analysis of all the Rambaldi artifacts in the CIA's possession.  Jack had never seen anyone in the Tech Services division ever get that excited.  
  
  



	17. Just Like Old Times

**Tomorrow's Promise**

**Feedback:** If you like this chapter, please leave me a review.

**  
Chapter Seventeen – Just Like Old Times**

Jack watched Sydney through the glass door of his office.  She was working on her computer, writing a mission report on her and Dixon's latest assignment.  It was a two-day op in Belize to extract another SD-6 agent working undercover as a drug lord's lieutenant.  The mission was successful -- they returned with the agent and intell on the drug operation.  There had been a bloody gunfight as they were escaping.  By all accounts, Sydney performed well – as well as she ever had.    
  


Jack had originally been worried that Sydney wouldn't be able to handle the missions physically or emotionally.  But this was her seventh mission in the two months that she had been back.  Every mission was successful and Sydney remained emotionally stable.  
  


He was incredibly proud of her and incredibly scared for her.  
  


Jack gathered a few folders together and put them in his briefcase.  He felt an intense desire to get away.  He stopped by Sloane's office and then checked with Sydney to see if she was available for supper.    
  


They had been spending more time together.  First out of necessity – Jack provided Sydney protection and information.  As the weeks progressed though, Sydney needed him less and less for those things.  But they enjoyed each other's company and continued to do things together.  Ironically, Jack found it easier to repair his relationship with his daughter when she didn't remember him.  
  


Sydney declined his dinner invitation but scheduled lunch with him the next day.  
  


Jack exited the building and walked towards his car in SD-6's secured parking deck.  As Jack put his key into the driver's door, a man stepped from behind a cement pillar and pointed a pistol at him.  It was Khasinau.  Jack instinctively dropped to the ground, dropped his briefcase, and pulled out his own gun.  Oddly enough, Khasinau didn't shoot.    
  


Before Jack could even aim his pistol, Sark was on him.  He kicked the pistol from Jack's hand and pointed his gun at Jack's face.    
  


"Mr. Bristow, is there any chance that you will come with us of your own volition?" Sark asked.  
  


Jack stared at Sark for a moment.  Then without warning he spun around and knocked Sark down with a leg sweep.  Khasinau had come around the car and was nearing Jack.  Jack stood up and punched Khasinau in the solar plexus.  As Khasinau doubled over, Jack snatched the gun away from him.  
  


Suddenly a white van screeched to a halt behind Jack's car.  Three men jumped out and ran towards Jack.  Jack aimed Khasinau's gun at them and pulled the trigger quickly.  One man was killed instantly, and one was wounded.  The third man leaped over Jack's car and tackled Jack pinning him against the adjacent vehicle.  The man quickly grabbed Jack's head and slammed it forcefully against the vehicle.  Jack went unconscious and slumped to the ground.   
  


The man drug Jack to the van, while Sark helped the injured man, and Khasinau pulled the dead man with him into the van.  The van quickly made it's way out of the parking deck.  
  


*****  
  


Sydney had turned Jack down because she was meeting Vaughn for supper.  Well, they had planned to meet at a coffee bar so that she could give him copies of the intell from the Belize mission.  
  


On her drive to the coffee bar, Sydney thought about that night in Vaughn's office.  She had been tormented by that incident since that night in Vaughn's office.  She didn't know what she regretted more, that she started kissing Vaughn or that Weiss interrupted them.    
  
Now there was a constant tension between them.  The first time they met after the incident, Vaughn had suggested that he resign as her handler.  
  


"I can't do this anymore, Syd."  His hazel eyes were filled with sadness and underscored with dark circles.  "I can't even think straight when it comes to you.  And right now you're my one and only case, so I'm **never** thinking straight!"  Vaughn was obviously frustrated.  
  


"Vaughn, I'm sorry, I never should have…"  
  


"It felt right, Syd," he whispered passionately.  "It felt so damn right."  
  


"Vaughn, it did," Sydney confirmed.  "But, it's just not the right time for us."  
  


"Look at our lives, Syd!  **Now** is the only time we've got!"  They stared at each other.  Sydney's resolve was fading with each beat of her heart.  "I'm going to resign as your handler."  
  


"What good would that do us?" Sydney asked.  
  


"For starters, you'd be safer with a more objective handler," Vaughn said.  
  


"Not true!" Sydney said.  
  


Vaughn chose to ignore the comment.  "And then we'd be free to be together."  
  


"No, Vaughn.  Bad idea," Sydney said.  "First of all, I prefer that you're not objective.  If you have vested interest, then you'll be more careful.  Secondly, I don't think that I could continue this assignment without you.  And finally, we still couldn't be together.  It's too dangerous… and you know it.  If we started spending time together, SD-6 would find out you're CIA…"  
  


"I'd quit my job…" Vaughn said quickly.  
  


"Wait a second," Sydney stopped him.  "You're going to give up on your career just so we can be together?  We don't even know if we'd get along."  Vaughn cocked his head and gave her an impatient look.  She didn't believe it either – she knew that they would be good together.  But she didn't want Vaughn giving up his career for her.  She knew about the complications that come from a person quitting a job for the sake of a lover.  Sydney softened her voice, "But the most important reason why we can't be together right now is because every man that I love ends up dying."  
  


Neither one of them had spoken about that night or their feelings for each other since then.  
  


Vaughn was already at the coffee bar when Sydney got there.  She headed for the table next to him, and as she passed him, she skillfully dropped a computer disk into his lap.  She sat with her back to him; she opened a book she had carried in with her, and he pretended to read the Wall Street Journal.  They discretely discussed the mission.    
  


Sydney was preparing to leave when her cell phone rang.  When she ended the call, she said, "That was Sloane.  He's asked me to come back to the office.  Says it's urgent."  
  


"That can't be good," Vaughn said.  
  


"Probably not."  
  


*****  
  


Sydney sat in Sloane's office, watching the parking deck surveillance tapes.  Sloane, Sydney, and the head of office security, Fogle, were the only ones in the office.  They were unable to make out the faces of any of the men.  
  


"Sydney, I'm sorry," Sloane said.  "But I'm sure he's okay."  Sydney looked at him skeptically, her emotions getting the best of her.  "If they wanted him dead, they would have killed him already."  
  


"That may be," Sydney shot back, "But in our business, the only reason for something like that," Sydney pointed at the screen, "Is to get intell.  And you and I both know what happens next."  
  


Sloane sighed.  "He's a top agent.  He'll either handle the situation himself, or he'll buy us time so that we can find him.  We've already got teams looking for him."  Sloane tried to sound reassuring, but it was obvious that the men were professionals.  
  


"How did they get in and out of the parking deck?" Sydney asked.  "I thought we had security."  
  


"They killed the two security guards, and we're still looking into how they bypassed the card reader and voice print."  
  


Fogle spoke for the first time since Sydney had arrived, "Sydney, do you know of anybody who would have a reason to abduct your father?"  
  


Sydney turned her head towards him and gave him an icy glare.  "You mean besides the fact that he's a top officer of an intelligence agency?" she asked sarcastically.  "No, I do not."  
  


*****  
  


On her way home, Sydney drove out to one of her favorite beaches.  As she walked along the water's edge, she talked to Vaughn on her cell phone.  
  


"Vaughn, right now I need you to be a friend… maybe even a partner, but not my handler – not an company man.  Can you do that?"  
  


"Of course," Vaughn said without hesitation.  
  


She shared the details with him.  He promised not to do anything.  She promised to call him when she learned more.


	18. Who's Got the Necklace?

**Tomorrow's Promise**

**Author's Note:** Remember that in this story no one in SD-6 or CIA knows that Irina is 'the man'… yet.  
  


**Chapter Eighteen – Necklace, Necklace, Who's Got the Necklace?**

Even before Jack was fully conscious he felt the pain in his arms.  They felt as if they were on fire – like he had been lifting weights for hours.  As he became more aware, Jack realized that his arms were tied above him and all his weight was hanging on them.  His head was pounding.  He searched his mind for explanations.  Jack woke up this way so many times that it had almost become comforting… almost.  
  


Jack struggled to get his feet under him and relieve the pressure on his arms.  It took several tries -- his legs were stiff from inactivity and his ankles were bound tightly.  
  


The room was too dark for him to see anything.  The air smelled clean – like evergreen trees and fresh water… probably a good size lake.  He heard the faint sound of gulls.  

Jack tested the restraints, and found they were quite secure.  He could do nothing except wait.

Eventually, a door opened and Jack was blinded by sunlight.  He closed his eyes and hung his head in an effort to shelter his hyper sensitive eyes.  Jack could hear someone approaching, but was unable to make out anything more than a silhouette against the bright light.  The person stopped directly in front of him.   
  


"You look like hell, Jack."

Jack was not surprised to hear her voice.  "You should know, Laura, since that is your hometown."

Irina laughed.  "Charming to the end," she said sarcastically.  "Are you not surprised to see your dead wife?"

"I knew your death was too good to be true," Jack spat.

"That hurts, Jack," she said mockingly.  "Look sweetheart, as much as I would like to talk over old times, I'm on a bit of a time schedule.  So, I'll get right to the point.  I need that necklace that I gave Sydney."  Jack remained silent.  "The one that is the companion to this one," she held out the Rambaldi pendant for Jack to see. 

Without looking at the pendant, Jack said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You haven't even looked at it, darling," Irina said.

"I don't need to.  I don't know what you're talking about."

Irina grabbed his chin and pulled his face up to look at her.  She moved her face so close to him that he could smell her fragrance and feel each breath she took.  His eyes were slowly adjusting to the light, and he could make out some of her features: the high cheek bones… full lips… exotic, dark eyes… she was still beautiful.  Jack cursed himself for even thinking that way.

"Jack, if you know where the necklace is, you need to tell me," Irina whispered menacingly.  Jack stared at her coldly.  "Because, if you know nothing about the necklace, then there is only one other person to go to…"

Jack clenched his teeth.  "Leave Sydney out of this," Jack said forcefully.

"You're leaving me no choice, Jack," Irina said.  She dropped his chin and turned her back on him.  "Although, I doubt that she remembers it either, after that stay with us," she mused.  "I suppose there is some way to try and recover her memory…"

Jack knew Irina was talking about a controversial method of using drugs and sensory stimulation to retrieve memories.  The hate that Jack felt at that moment surpassed any he had known.  And Jack was no stranger to hate.

Jack took a moment to calm his emotions before speaking.  "Sydney does not know anything about the necklace."  
  


Irina turned to face him, "How do you know that, my love?"

"I have it," Jack said coolly.

"Where?"  Jack refused to answer her.  "Always the good soldier, Jack," Irina said with a fraction of sadness.  She reached out and touched the side of his face.

Jack figured Irina didn't want to bring Sydney in to this.  If she had, Sydney would already be there.  He was gambling that Irina would choose to torture him for information before she started using Sydney as leverage.

Jack was not disappointed.

*****

Jack had lost track of time and lost count of his injuries.  They had not done anything to him that he hadn't experienced before, but he'd never had to endure so much in such a short timeframe.  Irina visited him after each session.  Jack refused to acknowledge her.

His plan had been to keep Irina away from Sydney for as long as possible and find a way to escape.  But his possibility for escape dwindled with each passing hour.  His strength was fading.  He was falling in and out of consciousness.  He'd had no food or water since he'd been taken prisoner.    
  


He knew they were going to kill him and then go after Sydney anyway.  He had done his best to protect her, but had failed again.

At least Irina had taken pity on him and cut him down after a particularly intense round with her henchmen.  Now he was sitting on the ground with his hands bound to a beam behind him and his ankles still bound in front of him.  This way he was much more comfortable as he drifted into unconsciousness.

*****  
  


The courier delivered the package to Credit Dauphine around 7:30 a.m.  All deliveries were screened before being delivered to the SD-6 offices, and top officers reviewed anything suspicious.

After reviewing the package, Sloane immediately called Sydney into his office.

"We've gotten communication from your father's abductors," Sloane said as he put the tape in the VCR.   
  


"Apparently, Khasinau has him.  They say they will kill him unless you bring them a Rambaldi necklace that you have.  Do you know what they are talking about?"  
  


Sydney forced a confused look and shook her head, "No, I don't."  It was important for Sloane to think that Sydney was unaware that the necklace her mother gave her so long ago was linked to Rambaldi.  
  


"Well, they sent us a tape," Sloane continued, "Actually it was sent directly to you.  It shows your father, includes their demands, and shows a drawing of the necklace."    
  


Sloane played the tape for Sydney.  It started with a full-length shot of Jack.  His wrists were bound together above his head.  His head was hanging.  A hand pulled Jack's head up.  His face was bruised and bloodied, his eyes were glassy, and his lips were dry and cracked.  
  


A male voice with a British accent started speaking.  Sydney did not recognize it, but remembered from one of Jack's briefings that an agent working with 'the man' spoke with a British accent.  Sark.  After learning about Sark, she wondered why he was one of the two people that she recognized.  
  


"Good day, Miss Bristow.  We have a proposition for you.  You bring us the Rambaldi necklace and we will let your father live.  I will contact you on your cell at 1:00 this afternoon with details on our meeting.  And, I insist that you come alone.  Otherwise your father will pay for your disobedience.  I'm looking forward to seeing you again."  
  


The camera moved from Jack to the Rambaldi page, and pulled in on the sketch of the necklace.  Sloane watched Sydney as recognition spread across her face.  
  


"Oh no!" Sydney exclaimed.  "**That's** the necklace?" She turned away from the screen to look at Sloane.  "My mother gave me part of that necklace when I was a little girl.  But I threw it away when I found out that she was KGB."  
  


"So, there's no way to retrieve it?" Sloane asked already knowing the answer.  Sydney shook her head.  Sloane got up and began to pace.  After a few moments Sloane stopped in his tracks, looked down at his watch and then turned to face Sydney.  "Okay, we've got five hours before Sark calls.  You will work with Marshall to make a copy of the necklace."  
  


"Can he make one that quickly?" Sydney asked with concern.  
  


"If anyone can do it, Marshall can."  Sloane continued, "Sydney, this is all yours.  I'm not going to tell anybody about this.  You can bring Dixon in, you can go it alone, or…" Sloane hesitated, "I'd be willing to work with you on this."  Sydney's eyes widened in surprise.  "I've got say, though, our priority should just be getting out of this alive.  I wouldn't try a counter attack – it's just not worth the risk."  
  


Sydney studied Sloane's face.  She couldn't believe that he was allowing himself to be human – that he cared more about getting Jack back than trying to keep Khasinau from acquiring more Rambaldi artifacts.  
  


"I agree with you," she said.  "The only way to get Dad back is for me to go in alone."  
  


Sloane nodded his head in understanding and then said, "Sydney, you should prepare yourself for the fact that you may run into your mother at the exchange."  Sloane watched Sydney for a look of surprise.  She gave none.  "I think this proves that she is still alive and working for Khasinau.  Otherwise, they would never have known about the necklace."  
  


Sydney nodded.  "I was thinking the same thing."


	19. Showdown Prelude

**Tomorrow's Promise**

**Feedback:** I'm getting all my motivation from feedback right now... so be sure to leave me some.

**Chapter Nineteen – Showdown Prelude**

Vaughn was sitting at his desk trying to concentrate on the latest report from Schulte on the Rambaldi necklace.  But his thoughts kept wandering to Sydney and Jack.  
  


Devlin suddenly appeared in Vaughn's office doorway.  "I don't suppose you've heard from either of the Bristows?" he asked.  
  


Vaughn tapped a pencil nervously on his desk.  "No sir, I haven't," Vaughn lied.  "Why?  Is something wrong?"  
  


"I doubt it," Devlin replied.  "Just that Jack missed a meeting this morning."  
  


"Huh," Vaughn said.  "Well, I'll let you know if I hear from either one of them."  
  


"Thanks," Devlin said and left.  
  


Vaughn got up and started pacing.  He knew it was only a matter of time before Devlin and Jack's handler started a full search.  
  


His cell phone rang.  "Vaughn."  
  


"Vaughn, it's Sydney."  
  


"Sydney, Thank God!" Vaughn said.  "Devlin was just here.  He's looking for you're father.  What's the status?"  
  


"Khasinea has him.  And, my mom is obviously working for Khasinea."  
  


"What?" Vaughn exclaimed.  
  


"Khasinea knows about my necklace.  That's what he wants.  They'll kill dad if I don't unless I give it to them.  The only way Khasinea could know about the necklace…"  
  


"Was from your mom," Vaughn completed the sentence for her.  Vaughn was silent for a moment and then said, "What are you going to do?"  Vaughn figured that she was calling to see if he could get the necklace.  
  


"I'm going to give them the necklace," Sydney said matter-of-factly.  "Only, it's going to be a copy that Marshall's making for me."    
  


Vaughn breathed a sigh of relief.  He couldn't afford to take any chances.  He was still on Devlin's watch list from the Taipei op.  
  


"But, Vaughn, I can't remember the exact colors and order of the stones.  She'll know if they're wrong.  I need to see the necklace again."  
  


Vaughn frowned.  "Syd, there's no way I can get the necklace out of here.  They've got it under the highest security," Vaughn said.  
  


"Then get me a picture of it, Vaughn," Sydney said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  "But you can't let them know what you need it for.  I can't trust the Agency with this."  
  


Vaughn was already looking through his desk trying to locate a micro camera.  "When do you need it, Syd?"  
  


"Ten minutes ago."  
  


"Terrific," Vaughn said sarcastically.  "Give me fifteen minutes."  
  


*****  
  


Sydney walked back into Marshall's office with two café mochas.  Marshall eyed the Java Doctor cups.  "When you said you were getting us some coffee, I figured you were going to the cafeteria."  
  


Sydney gave him a weak smile.  "I can't stand the cafeteria coffee.  How's the necklace coming?"  
  


"Nearly there," Marshall replied.  "We'll need to pick the stones and set them soon.  Have you figured out what they were?"  
  


"I think so," Sydney said as her cell phone rang.  "But, it will be easier when I'm able to see them in context."  Marshall nodded his understanding.  
  


Sydney answered her cell phone, "Hello?"  
  


"Syd, it's me."  It was Vaughn.  
  


"Hi Francie!" Sydney faked girlish enthusiasm and turned her back on Marshall.  
  


"I've got the jpeg file that you wanted."  Vaughn was purposely vague.  
  


"Really?  How did you manage that?" Sydney asked.  
  


"Let's just say that it had something to do with Weiss and a very hot cup of coffee."  
  


"That's fantastic!" Sydney faked her reply.  
  


"Well, Weiss didn't think so.  I swear he was a theatre major in college."  
  


"That's funny," Sydney said, actually laughing.  "Look, I'm really busy right now, sweetie, but if you email me that jpg, I'll look at it."  
  


"Sweetie?" Vaughn repeated as he sent the encrypted file to Sydney's private email address on the CIA's secure server.  "Okay, you've got mail," Vaughn said.  There was a moment's silence then Vaughn said, "Syd, I want to back you up at the exchange."  
  


"That's just not possible," Sydney said.  
  


"I know that they probably told you to come alone, but you can't go in there without some kind of backup, Syd!" Vaughn was pleading now.  
  


"I've got to go now Francie.  I'll see you tonight."  
  


"Syd, don't…!"  
  


Sydney ended the call, folded up her phone and put it back in her purse.  She smiled faintly at Marshall.  "My friend… she's buying a house… wants me to look at one she's thinking about making a bid on."  
  


Marshall nodded politely.  He was singularly focused for a change.  No nervous chatter.  No bits of trivia.  Sloane had told him to help Sydney out as a personal favor to him.  Sloane stressed that he should not ask any questions, and should not tell anybody about Sydney and the necklace.  Ever.  
  



	20. Family Reunion

**Tomorrow's Promise**

Chapter Twenty – Family Reunion 

Sark phoned Sydney as he promised and directed her to an abandoned waterfront warehouse.  She hadn't told Sloane or Vaughn where she was going.  Sloane understood.  Vaughn did not.  
  


Sark warned that if she brought any weapons with her they would be used on her father.  She sat in her SUV rolling the lipstick tube back and forth in her palm.  She still remembered the briefing when Marshall had given it to her.  
  


-----

Marshall rolled the lipstick across the table to her.  "I don't wear this brand, Marshall," she said.  
  


Marshall giggled nervously.  "That's okay, Miss Bristow, because you definitely don't want to _wear_ that lipstick."  He grinned enthusiastically.  "Go ahead an open it."  
  


Sydney pulled the cap off the lipstick to find a miniature gun barrel.  "It's an oldie but a goodie -- a fully functioning gun developed by the KGB during the cold war," Marshall reported.  "You need to be in close range to use this – it's more difficult to aim than a standard gun.  And, there are only two bullets."  
  


"_This_ can stop an attacker?" Sydney asked skeptically.  
  


"Uh, yes.  That can **kill** somebody," Marshall said.  "Yes, that's right, Miss Bristow.  That lipstick can deliver the kiss of death."  Marshall flashed his trademark grin.  
  


-----  
Sydney tucked the lipstick in between the waistband of her jeans and her hip bone and said a prayer of thanks for Marshall.  
  


Sydney entered the warehouse and stepped into the darkness.  The door slowly closed behind her.  She stood still trying to adjust to the darkness.  
  


"Lovely to see you again, Miss Bristow."  Even though she couldn't see him, Sydney knew it was Sark.  Another figure approached her, stopped well out of her reach and pointed a gun at her head.  
  


Sark walked up to Sydney and stopped within inches of her.  He looked down into her face and smirked.  Her eyes had finally become accustomed to the low light and she could clearly make out his features.  With each breath she could smell the combination of his scent and his cologne.  Under different circumstances, it might have been pleasant instead of nauseating.  
  


Suddenly an image of Sark came to her.  _He approached her in the same manner.  He smirked at her exactly the same way.  "Blue really isn't your color." _  
  


She remembered him!  Sydney was overwhelmed with anxiety as she experienced all the emotions associated with the memory.  
  


Sark put his hands on her shoulders and slid them down her arms, then back up on the underside of her arms.  Sydney pushed her anxiety aside and tried to regain her calm.  "Don't you trust me?" she asked as Sark continued to search for weapons.  
  


Sark gave her an abbreviated laugh.  Then he squatted down to run his hands down the outside of legs, around her ankles, and up the inside of her legs.  As he stood up again, Sark let his hand linger a fraction longer where her thighs met.  
  


"You don't remember me, do you, Miss Bristow."  Sark moved his hands around her hips and onto her butt.  
  


"Why in the world would I want to?" Sydney replied calmly.  
  


Sark laughed casually.  He moved his hands to the small of her back and gently pulled her closer to him so that their bodies were touching.  His fingers inched slowly around her waist.  Sydney was filled with dread as Sark's fingers found the lipstick.  Sark smiled, "What have we here?"  
  


Keeping one hand on Sydney's hips, he pulled away a little to examine the lipstick.  "Did you bring this for me, love?" he asked playfully.  "Well, as far as I'm concerned, you're perfectly kissable just the way you are."  He took the cap off and saw the gun barrel.  "You **did** bring this for me, didn't you?"  Sark laughed and put the lipstick in his pocket.  
  


Sark returned his other hand to her hips and pressed his body lightly against hers.  They stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity to Sydney.  "Satisfied?" she asked sardonically.  
  


"Mmmmm, not yet, love," he said as he bit his bottom lip and raised an eyebrow.  He finally let her go, turned his back on her and walked farther into the warehouse.  "Come along, dear," he called to her over his shoulder.  
  


Sydney eyed the other man and his gun and then dutifully followed Sark.  The other man followed her keeping the gun steady on her head.  Sark led her into a large open area of the warehouse.  The area was poorly lit.  The only source of light was an occasional stray sunbeam pouring in through a whole in the roof.    
  


Sark stopped and motioned for her to come closer.  He put his hand on her shoulder and applied force pushing her down to a kneeling position.  
  


"Cross your ankles," Sark commanded.  Sydney complied.  Sark leaned down to her and slowly ran his hands over her arms, pulling them backwards.  He bent them at the elbows, put her left hand on her right elbow and her right hand on her left elbow.  He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "It would behoove you to stay just like that."  
  


Another image flashed_.  She was lying down and he was leaning over her whispering in her ear.  "Someday darling…" then a sudden sharp pain in her bicep.  _The anxiety and emotions washed over Sydney again.  
  


Sark stood up, but remained next to her with his hand on her shoulder.  A door at the far end of the room opened and three figures approached her.  Two men were dragging Jack towards her.  They dropped him to the floor about 12 feet in front of her.  He was unconscious, and his arms still bound behind him.  He looked worse than he had on the video.  More cuts.  More bruises.  Unnaturally pale.  Shallow breathing.  
  


The two men made a retreat as another figure approached Jack – a woman.  She held a pitcher over Jack's face and started pouring cold water over him.  Jack barely managed to wake up.  And when he did, he was still unable to move away from the water.  He started choking and gasped for air.  
  


Sydney's heart sank as she was forced to watch her father struggle.  Suddenly images of her childhood raced through her mind.  _Dancing around the living room with him, her petite feet resting on top of his.  Him trying to teach her to hit a softball.  A walk in the park._  More emotions.  More anxiety.  
  


Shortly after the woman poured the last of the water on Jack, one of the men stepped up and pulled Jack up to a kneeling position.  Jack struggled to hold himself upright.  Sydney and Jack were now facing each other, both kneeling.  Sydney could see his eyes.  He stared right through her like she wasn't even there.  
  


Another memory.  _Talking with her father and Vaughn after they had rescued her from the DSR.  Telling him that her mother could have survived the car crash.  How she had known  just what to do in the same situation.  His face had filled with concern… or was it fear?  _Increasing anxiety.  
  


"Let him go now," Sydney addressed Sark while keeping her eyes on her father as if she could protect him with just her stare.  "I'm not giving you the necklace until I know he's safe."  
  


"Sydney," a female voice pulled her attention away from her dad.  "Surely you have evaluated the situation.  You are not in control here.  I am."    
  


The woman who had poured the water over Jack moved towards her.  With each click of her high heels on the cement floor, another memory attacked Sydney.  _"I was the reason you were recruited by SD-6."  "You will be an excellent asset for us."  "I know you… you are my daughter."  
  
_

Sydney's legs became weak as she realized the woman was her mother.  It was her mother who had kidnapped and tortured Will.  She was the one who had involved Noah in it.  Her mother had taken her father hostage and turned him into the weakened shell that Sydney saw before her.  
  


Her mother was the man.__


	21. The Party's Over

**Tomorrow's Promise** Chapter Twenty One – The Party's Over 

Sydney pushed her eyes closed trying to control the rage of emotions and anxiety.  She took a deep breath and then looked up into her mother's eyes.  Sydney set her jaw, "If you touch him again, I'm going to kill you."  
  


Irina laughed.  Another flash.  _A closed casket draped in white roses._  
  


"So, you and your father have a powerful bond it seems," she said.  "He said that he had the necklace to protect you.  And now here you are trying to protect him.  How sweet.  Still Daddy's little girl."  
  


Another painful jolt.  _She was lying on the floor, feeling extremely sick.  Her mother knelt over her, stroking her hair.  "You see Sydney, Rambaldi's master work will give us unlimited power.  You and I hold the future in our hands."  
  
_

Irina loomed over Sydney.  "The necklace please, my darling," she said as she extended her hand.  
  


Sydney slowly moved her hands around to her neck, grabbed the chain that had been hidden by her shirt, and pulled the pendant up for her to see.  Irina smiled and reached down to take it.  Sydney covered the pendant with her hand.   
  


"Let Dad go," Sydney said calmly.  
  


Irina laughed.  "Dear girl, your father is not able to walk out of this warehouse on his own.  You will have to help him.  But I assure you that you both will live to walk out of here.  And I suggest that you enjoy your time together because very soon, **you **will be joining **me**."  
  


"You're insane!" Sydney said coldly.  
  


"There is a fine line between insanity and genius, my dear.  Now, the necklace," Irina said as she held out her hand.  
  


Sydney took the necklace off and handed it to Irina.  Irina held the necklace up and examined it.  After a moment, she looked down at Sydney and smiled.  "Good girl.  Now I can to return to my work.    
  


"The page that you so quickly traded for Tippin has changed the entire design.  And I have to repair the damage that you did.  But I'll be back for you as soon as I can," Irina said as she reached out and cupped Sydney's chin in the palm of her hand.  
  


_Another memory.  Her mother with an unusually sad look as she said goodbye… the last time she said goodbye.  _Sydney was becoming immune to the anxiety and the flood of emotions.   
  


A man appeared at Irina's side and started whispering in her ear.  "What?" Irina was surprised.  The man whispered some more.  "Well, bring him in," she said dramatically.  
  


The man left and Irina looked at Sydney with admiration.  "Remarkable, Sydney.  It is just remarkable the way men are attracted to you.  It seems that they would do anything for you."  
  


Sydney could hear somebody approaching from behind her.  She watched the two men over her shoulder as they came closer.  They threw another man towards her.  Vaughn stumbled forward and fell at Sark's feet.  One of the men stopped near Sark and pointed a gun at Vaughn.  
  


A new avalanche of memories.  _Vaughn watching her skeptically as she filled out her initial report.  His silohette against the moonlight at the pier.  At their warehouse.  "Are you romantically interested in anyone?"  Wearing a black leather duster following her through the club in Taipei.  
  
_

Sark looked down at him.  "Agent Vaughn.  What a pleasant surprise," he said as he used his foot to roll Vaughn over on his back.    
  


Vaughn moaned softly.  Sydney looked at him.  There were several cuts on his face, and his left eye was swollen shut.  He held his right arm tightly against his abdomen, a broken bone jutting up through the skin and muscle of his forearm.  Sydney was overwhelmed with an urge to scream out but knew that would only give her mother more smug satisfaction.  
  


Suddenly, Irina was kneeling down in front of her, looking her in the eye.  "Sydney, I'd like to give you some motherly advice.  Men will do nothing for you except hold you back.  You have very special powers, my dear.  All the women in our family have exceptional abilities.  
  


"You cannot reach your full potential until rid yourself of the men in your life.  Your father, Vaughn, Tippin, Dixon, Sloane, even that adorable little puppy Marshall.  None of them can complement your power.  They will only cause you pain and put you in compromising positions, like this one here."  
  


"That is very interesting advice coming from a woman who has obviously surrounded herself with men," Sydney observed.  
  


Irina looked sympathetically at her daughter.  "There is a difference, Sydney.  You have not come to trust your instincts when it comes to men.  If you would just start respecting your intuition, you can be transformed." Irina sighed at the look of defiance in Sydney's eyes.  "You will see in time, my daughter, that I am right."  
  


Irina stood up and put the necklace around her neck.  She motioned towards one of her men.  He tossed her two hand grenades.  Irina addressed Sydney again.  "While you have followed our instructions well, I need to guarantee that you do not try to follow us."  
  


Irina bent down behind Jack.  "Sydney, incase you haven't noticed, your father has had a tough couple of days.  He's very weak, and he has a lot of injuries, including at least second degree burns on the palms of his hands."    
  


Sydney watched in horror as Irina removed the pin from one of the grenades, and threw the pin towards the back of the warehouse.  Then she placed the grenade in one of Jack's hands, and wrapped his fingers around it.  Jack showed no emotion and no recognition of what was happening.  Vaughn rolled onto his side and watched as Irina repeated the process with the second grenade.    
  


Irina walked around in front of Jack and pulled his head up to look him in the eyes.  She started talking to him as if he were four years old.  "Jack, it is very important that you keep a hold on the grenades that are in your hands right now.  If you let one go, you'll have killed not only yourself, but also Officer Vaughn, and our daughter.  And I have great plans for our daughter, Jack.  I would be very unhappy.  Do you understand?"  Jack just stared at her through his glassy eyes.  "Tell me you understand."  
  


Jack spoke softly and slowly as if each word caused him pain, "I understand."  
  
Irina smiled and released her hold on his chin.  Jack's head immediately dropped to his chest.  "Good," she said as she patted him patronizingly on his head.  "Once we've left, Sydney will help you."  
  


Irina stood up and started walking toward the door.  As she passed Sydney she said, "Do think about what I said, won't you dear?"  
  


Irina and her entourage headed towards the warehouse exit.  Sark lingered just a bit longer.  He knelt down next to Sydney, put a hand on the side of her face and turned her head to look at him.    
  


"I'm counting the days until we meet again, love."  Sark leaned in towards her as if he was going to kiss her.  Sydney was so wrapped up in her anger that she didn't notice Sark pull the lipstick gun out of his pocket.  He flipped off the cap with his thumb, pushed the barrel against Sydney's leg and fired a shot into her left thigh.  
  


"Aaaarrrrgggh!" Sydney yelled out more in surprise than in pain.  She fell sideways towards Vaughn, ending up lying on her right side.  
  


  
  


"Something to remember me by," Sark said as he stood up.  He quickly left the building.    
  


Sydney looked down at her leg.  "Dammit!"  Based on the amount of blood, Sydney was worried that the bullet had hit a major artery.  She desperately looked Vaughn over.  
  


"Dad, can you hang on a little longer?"  Sydney wasn't even sure that Jack was able to respond to her.  
  


Jack raised his head with some difficulty and looked at her.  "Yes, of course" he said, his voice much more stable than it had been previously.  
  


Sydney sat up and moved closer to Vaughn.  Without a word, she reached out and grabbed his belt buckle.  Vaughn watched with wide eyes as she unbuckled his belt.  In any other circumstances, he would been thrilled to have her touch him like that, but considering their current predicament, he was just confused.  Within a few moments, it was obvious what Sydney was doing and Vaughn scolded himself for being so dense.  
  


Sydney pulled Vaughn's belt free, and wrapped it around her left thigh, pulling it tight enough to slow her blood loss.  She drug herself towards Jack.  
  


"Vaughn, the pins!"  
  


Vaughn got to his feet as quickly as he could and went in search of the pins.  By the time he made his way back with the pins, Sydney was holding both grenades, and Jack was lying on his side on the floor, fighting to remain conscious.  Vaughn put the pins back in the grenades.  Sydney and Vaughn breathed a collective sigh of relief.    
  


Vaughn watched as the color suddenly drained from Sydney's face  "Cell phone?" Vaughn asked.  
  


"In my purse, in my car," Sydney managed to say just before she lost consciousness.  
  


*****  
  


Vaughn berated himself all the way out to Sydney's SUV.  He followed her there without her knowledge.  His plan was to monitor the exchange from a distance and only go in if something went wrong.  But something had gone wrong – two of Irina's thugs had found him.  How could he have endangered Jack and Sydney like that?  
  


Vaughn's arm throbbed as he dialed Weiss' cell number, but not nearly as much as his ego.  Weiss dispatched and ambulance and EMT team to the warehouse, and then worked with a technology officer to create a 911 call using Sydney's voice.  When complete, the tech officer stored the call in the 911 call log.  No one would ever know that it was not Sydney that made the call.  
  


Vaughn returned to the warehouse with Sydney's purse and cell phone.  He made sure Jack was conscious so that he would be able to ask the EMTs to take them to SD-6's hospital.    
  


Vaughn knelt down beside Sydney.  He laid the cell phone and her purse near her.  Then he gently brushed a few stray hairs off her face and looked at her one last time.  He ran his hands down along her arm and checked her pulse.  Reassured that she would be okay until the ambulance arrived, Vaughn took her hand in his and held it briefly then got up and walked out of the warehouse.


	22. Something to Live For

**Tomorrow's Promise  
  
**

**Author's Note:** This chapter was written by Gabby Silang.  I couldn't think of any better way to conclude my first fanfic than by having one of my favorite authors write the resolution.  
  


**Thanks again, Gabby!  **And thank you, **faithful readers**, for sticking with me and for giving me such rich feedback!  And if you haven't checked out Gabby's fic, **6.28**, you should put that on your reading list.  And if you're interested in reading more of my stuff, I'm up to chapter twenty-something on **Will's Girl**.

Chapter Twenty One – Something to Live For  
  


It was almost three weeks after that day, and she was entering a much different warehouse.  They hadn't seen each other since he'd left her to the doctors.  Walking in she saw him already there, waiting for her.    
  


Much had happened in less than a month.  Sydney gained a lifetime.

She spent most of the three weeks in a hospital, an SD-6 building, in physical therapy.  Her life came back to her, not in snips and snaps as before, but flowing and fluid.

That man was her father.  He carried her on his back.  She danced on his feet.  Badly.  He left all the time.  He stopped laughing when she was twelve.  He'd do anything for her.  Protect her from her mother.  Her mother who read the promises of "The Runaway Bunny" with such conviction.

_If you go flying on a flying trapeze, I will be a tightrope walker and I will walk across the air to you._

That book was in a packing box in her closet with a high school diploma and her grandmother's wedding veil.

The hospital bath was warm.  There had been a cold bath one time, and not in an ordinary hospital.  Electricity.  Pain.  Fear.  For herself and an intensely afraid man, Irish.  Martin Shepard.  He killed Danny.  Danny was her fiancée.  Called her 'baby' when no one else was around.  Was her fault.  In another bath.  

As soon as she could stand well enough, she opted for the shower.

Limping into another familiar setting, seeing her handler standing where he always stood, more images flowed.  I have an instinct.  I just wanted to say, I'm so sorry.  I'll break into the Vatican with you.  You look really pretty.  Your counter-mission is your counter-mission is your counter-mission is.  A couple of smiles.  
  


Vaughn found it hard to look at her.  Found himself wishing for another time with her, one without close calls, without history.

He'd done exactly what she hadn't wanted him to and he'd screwed it up royally.  It wasn't even that he was important to Irina, just something else for her to lord over Sydney, to threaten and coerce with.  To hold her back.  He could pretend he was an asset.  Mostly he felt like an ass.

Meeting with Weiss later that awful day, watching Syd and Jack brought out like dead things on stretchers. . .

Yeah, he was an ass.

He'd spent nearly two hours with Devlin trying to explain his actions, which had nothing on the time he spent with himself on the subject.  Convinced Deviln not to suspend him, mostly on the merit of his intel on the identity of 'The Man.'  Somehow his supervisor had managed to pack "one more time and you're in the basement" into a parting look.

Vaughn had had a lot of time to think in the past three weeks.  He was on restricted duty, recovering from his injuries.  He thought of that as penance.  

And what Irina had said about Syd and her 'special powers and abilities.'  He found himself inexplicably trusting the truth of the words, reminding himself of his crazy aunt Trish, then brushing them off before digging any further into that particular can of worms.  Syd probably hadn't even thought twice about all that.  The words of a monumental liar, a murderer.  

The description was too familiar.  Don't think about it.

Sydney walked to where Vaughn was pacing, appropriately caged  "Hi."   
  


He looked up at her  "Hey,"  her shoulders were lower than they'd been, her gate less confident, her eyes more crowded.  She remembered.  

She sat down on a crate near him.  "How's the arm?" she asked, gesturing towards his cast.    
  


He joined her  "Driving me insane,"  she smiled, commiserating, "But I'll live."

Quiet, but still a demand:  "You better."

Swallow, say something "The leg?"

Deep breath  "They tell me that I should be walking normally in a couple weeks, but most likely always have pain from it,"  cringe  "Compared it to arthritis."   
  


Vaughn nodded sympathetically.  "And how about…?" he asked.  
  


There was a pause while she shook her head, hoping some of all this new truth, the old truth, would leave.  Didn't work.  

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this"  disbelief and anger laced  "People can't really live like this.  My mother,"  don't break  "That woman is a monster.  My **mother**, Vaughn!"  She paced then, unsteady  "And what am I doing?  Tottering along, twiddling my thumbs waiting for her to decide she really does want me dead.  This woman who brought me up and taught me how to read and braided my hair, tied it with ribbons, with her hands, and killed your father, and betrayed us, with her hands."  Deep breaths  "I never knew her.  I never knew that woman."

It was hard to find something to say to that, to the naked truth.  So he didn't speak for a while.  Took her hand to stop her pacing.  The leg was probably hurting her.

"You know we'll catch her.  You will.  I know I'll see it happen."  She tried to pull away to clutch at old debates but he gripped tighter  "Until then you've got your father, you've got Will and they both know the incredible things you're doing and would do anything for you,"  a light smile  "I know the feeling."

Something washed over her then, a bit of her old bravado.  Her shoulders straightened, her eyes cleared.  She slowly let go of his hand and took a step back.  

"Okay"  inhale some fresh air  "Okay," her own smile "I think I can live with that.  Until then."

"Until then."

Author's Note:  The Runaway Bunny was written by Margaret Wise Brown, and is awesome. 


	23. Author's Rambling

**Tomorrow's Promise: Author's Rambling**

To my faithful readers,  
  


I'm not really sure what to call this.  Originally, I was going to call it an Epilogue, but I don't think that's quite right, since it doesn't continue the voice of the story.  Monologue?  Soliloquy?  Rebuttal?  No word seems to fit.  
  


Chapter twenty-two was the final chapter of my fic, Tomorrow's Promise.  But, I feel so indebted to you guys – my readership – that makes me want to take a moment to respond to some of the questions that you left in the reviews.  See, I do read the reviews!  ;)  The reviews are what really makes writing these fics fun!  
  


So, I've already answered one question: Was 22 the end?  Yes it was.  
  


You're right, I didn't wrap everything up in a tidy package.  But neither does the show from one week to another.  And that was part of my plan because 1) I wanted to stay as true to the format of the show as I could and 2) I wanted to leave myself room to come back and write sequels if I desired.  If Syd had caught SpyMom and brought down SD-6, and married Vaughn, I would have very little material for sequels.  At least in my mind.  And as some of you know I already have a sequel going called Will's Girl.  Irina, Jack, Sark… they're all back.  
  


Specifically, did Jack miraculously get better when they left the warehouse?  No miracle.  He recuperated just like he did after he got shot up in Taipei in Chapter 4.  He's the amazing Jack Bristow, after all.  One of my favorite characters.  If you're out there reading this, Jack, God bless you!  (And I'm not talking about the Jack Bristow from Waynesville, Illinois that I dated in high school.)  **Long live** **SpyDaddy!  
  
**

Didn't Irina know that the necklace was a fake?  I expect that she didn't figure it out until she tried to use it with whatever Rambaldi gizmo she needed it for.  She hadn't seen the necklace for 20 years, and all they had was a pencil sketch to judge it by.  And Sydney had a jpg of the actual necklace that she turned over to the CIA.  So, I'm certain that Sydney and Marshall together made a pretty good copy.  
  


So, thanks once again to everybody for reading my fic and an extra big thank you to those who left reviews!  
  


God Bless!


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